Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising
by Cyclone
Summary: Reposted from Spacebattles. Brian Laborn is at a crossroads in his life when he stumbles across a mugging in a certain alleyway. Fusion 'fic.
1. Prelude

**Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising**  
 _Prelude_

My name is Brian Laborn, and I am a cape.

Becoming a cape sucks, and for me, it was no exception. But once you _are_ one, once you actually _have_ powers? It opens doors. Lots of doors. There's a lot of money to be made as a cape, no matter what kind of power you have. No one's ever had a useless power.

Mine lets me create darkness only I can see through. While I don't see much of a market for that as a rogue, there are plenty of other applications I can think of.

When I first got my power, I considered the Wards. It's the first thing anyone thinks of, really, at least here in the States. Join the Wards, be a hero. But no.

Family comes first. Dad taught me that. He taught me a lot: how to throw a punch, how to take a hit, how to fight through the pain. He taught me that life sucks. Tough love. That's Dad for you. Mom... I don't like to think about Mom. I wouldn't, if it weren't for Aisha.

I need to get Aisha away from Mom. For that, I needed a job. And I needed money, enough to get a good lawyer once I turn eighteen so I can sue for custody.

And the Wards? They're part of the system, the same system that gave Mom custody of Aisha after the divorce to begin with. They'd known what she was like. Why would it turn out any different if I joined the Wards?

That left the other side of the law. The Bay has plenty of criminal enterprises that could use my talents. Some days, it seemed like the gangs were in more control of the city than city hall. And the bigger gangs could easily find someone to forge up some good looking paperwork and some "reputable" character witnesses for a custody hearing. Or maybe just bribe the right judge.

There's just the tiny problem of being black in a town ruled mostly by a Nazi gang. And the Merchants represent everything I'm trying to get Aisha _away_ from.

A couple of weeks after I got my power, I was on my way back to the apartment I shared with Dad, trying to figure out what to do, when I heard the scream. I honestly can't remember what went through my head, but instead of ignoring it or running away like any sane person would, I ran toward the scream, ducking into the alley.

It didn't take long to take in the scene. A couple and their son, probably taking an ill-advised shortcut through the alley. Probably out of towners. A mugger with a snub-nosed revolver, wearing Merchant colors and a drug-crazed look.

There was no time to think. The mugger had heard me and was already swinging the gun around. I used my power, flooding the alley in darkness, and moved to the side before lunging toward him. I ducked inside his reach even as he fired. Left jab, left jab, right cross, and he was down.

When I let the darkness vanish, the little boy stared at me, goggle-eyed. "Are you a hero?" he asked.

I didn't answer. I left.

Still, I didn't forget the boy's question. _Was_ I a hero? _Could_ I be? Maybe I could. Brockton Bay had maybe half a dozen independent heroes, after all. And if I did something really impressive, that might give me some extra leverage when it came to joining the Wards. Maybe enough to pull a few strings for Aisha.

I'd been mulling that over for a few days when we received a visitor.

"Brian?"

I looked up. "Yeah, Dad?" Ever since I triggered, we generally avoided each other.

"There's someone here to see you."

Puzzled, I got up and went to the door. It was the little boy's father.

"You," I said. "How did you find me?"

"I am a man of many resources, Mister Laborn," he said, holding out his hand. "You saved my life; you saved all our lives. I'd like to repay you, and maybe together, we can do more."

"You... seem to have me at an advantage," I answered, shaking his hand hesitantly.

"My apologies," he said. "My name is Wayne - Doctor Thomas Wayne - and I have a proposition for you."

That seems like so long ago now. It only took me a week to decide.

My name is Brian Laborn, and I am Batman.


	2. Flicker 1-1

**Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising**  
 _Flicker 1.1_

I sat anxiously in a sitting room in Wayne Manor. Yes, they had an actual _manor_ , and yes, that was _a_ sitting room. The manor was big enough I wasn't sure it was the only one. Turns out, the Waynes were old money, descended from one of Brockton Bay's founders, but they'd relocated to New York for business reasons about a century ago. The family still kept and maintained property in Brockton Bay, including the family manor, and they had returned in hopes of revitalizing the city.

"Master Thomas." That was Alfred, the Waynes' butler; yes, they had a butler too. "Mister Dent is here."

"Show him in, Alfred."

"Of course, sir."

Soon, Alfred returned, accompanied by a dark-haired man wearing a sharp suit and a roguish grin. "Tommy!"

"Harv! It's good to see you." The two men greeted each other warmly with a brief hug and a backslap. Dr. Wayne looked over to me. "Brian, this is an old friend of mine, Assistant District Attorney Harvey Dent."

I blinked. Assistant District Attorney?

"So this is the young hero," Mr. Dent said as we shook hands. He had a firm, vigorous grip. This wasn't the kind of guy who just a punched a clock behind a desk. "You did good, son."

I bristled a little at that. Who did this guy think he was, calling me "son"?

"Now, I've looked at your sister's custody case," he said as he and Dr. Wayne sat down. "Not my specialty, but I know someone who can help and owes me a couple of favors, and from what I've seen, he'll knock it out of the park."

Well, that was a relief.

"The only problem," he continued with a sigh, "is that state law doesn't allow for emancipation of minors, so even with Tom hiring you on, you won't be able to sue for custody until you turn eighteen. Your father could sue for custody, but..." he paused and shook his head, "since it was already awarded to your mother in the divorce proceedings, he's unlikely to win, especially given his own circumstances and history."

I bit my lip. Nearly three years, then. That was going to be... a long stretch. Especially for Aisha.

"Thank you, sir," I said, giving him what I hoped was a friendly nod. "It's good to know there's a light at the end of the tunnel. So to speak."

Mr. Dent snorted. "Least I can do, kid, after what you did. Of course, Tom _could_ just adopt you...?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. I didn't want a hand out. And besides, an old money white couple adopting a couple of black kids from the 'hood? That would become a media circus, and it would paint big, fat targets on all our backs.

Mr. Dent gave me a measured look for a long moment, then nodded. "Fair enough, kid. I just hope the city's still intact when the time comes."

"That's... why I asked you here, Harv," Dr. Wayne said. "Remember that idea you had, two weeks ago?"

Mr. Dent looked at him in puzzlement for a long moment before comprehension dawned on him. "Oh, come on, Tom. We were three sheets to the wind, and even then, we realized, even _with_ Lucius's work, we couldn't pull it off. We'd need a cape."

I coughed.

* * *

Several minutes and one demonstration later, Dr. Wayne and Mr. Dent were ready to tell me what they were talking about.

"The problem," Mr. Dent said as he poured another shot, "is that for every gang member we put away, there are ten more signing on each day. Until we can do something about _that_ , we're not going to make any real progress. Two weeks ago, Tom, here, hit the nail on the head."

I looked over at Dr. Wayne. "How?"

"I asked why people join gangs," Dr. Wayne said.

"Huh?"

"Why do people joins gangs?" he repeated.

"They need money?" I offered. It was why _I_ had considered it.

Mr. Dent shook his head. "Not really. Sure, some of them do, but not all, not even most. If that were the case, the Wayne Foundation could fix everything up without involving either of us."

"Let's try that again, Brian," Dr. Wayne said. "Why do people join, say, the Empire?"

I snorted. "I am the _wrong_ person to ask that, Doc."

"Most join because they're afraid," Mr. Dent said, sipping his whiskey. "Villains and Endbringers, Kyushu and the refugees... for decades, it's just been one disaster after another as society slowly breaks down. They can see civilization crumbling around them, and they're afraid. The Empire gives them a way to fight back, someone for them to blame, and a promise of stability and a return to the good old days."

"So?" I asked. I still didn't really see the point of this line of thought.

" _So_ , the same goes for the other gangs," he said. "They're also afraid. Afraid of persecution, afraid of the Empire, so they join the gangs for protection. Ultimately, it's _all_ about fear. If the Empire tried to crush one of the smaller gangs, fear would make them band together against the Empire, and the fear of _that_ means the Empire won't."

I mulled that over for a moment. "Okay, makes sense," I allowed, "but so what?"

"Brockton Bay already has plenty of heroes," Dr. Wayne said. "If we - if _you_ \- are really going to make a difference, you'll have to do more." He paused. "You'll have to make them afraid. Make the people fear _joining_ the gangs more than they fear not joining."

"If they're not afraid of Armsmaster or Miss Militia, why would they be scared of me?" I felt it was a reasonable question. I created darkness. Armsmaster was one of the world's greatest Tinkers, and Miss Militia could conjure up just about any weapon.

"Because they're known quantities," Mr. Dent answered. "Because they're human. They're highly visible; they patrol once or twice a week; they even have their own _action figures_. They can be seen, understood, _predicted_. Somewhere along the line, parahumans became... normal. Mundane, even. And when you get right down to it, with all the bureaucracy and the paperwork - believe me, there's a ton of paperwork - the Protectorate are just glorified cops with colorful costumes and lines of merchandise."

I nodded. "Familiarity breeds contempt." I could understand that.

"Exactly!" Mr. Dent said, snapping his fingers. "If we're going to pull this off, you need to become something _more_ than just another cape or vigilante. You need to be a ghost, an urban legend, something that could lurking around any corner, something that can strike _anywhere_ , at anytime. Something they can't escape."

"So... what, you mean I need to become some sort of... boogeyman for crooks?"

"Precisely."

My face soured. "Didn't someone try that before? Guy called Gavel?"

"Not like that," Dr. Wayne said, scowling and waving off the comparison. "Forget the capes, Brian. You bring in the non-capes, discourage others from joining the gangs. Harvey prosecutes them. I invest in the city and give people a better alternative to a life of crime. We drain their manpower, erode their membership. After all, in the end, what's a gang without any members?"

* * *

I blinked.

"Clarendon?" I asked. " _High school?_ "

"You still need a diploma, young man," Dr. Wayne said. "I've discussed this with Harvey and your father. Dropping out of high school won't look good in a custody hearing, even if you get your GED. Fortunately, you weren't away from school long, and I was able to, ah, 'convince' Clarendon's administration that your previous school merely misplaced your leave of absence documentation."

I stared. "You... bribed the school?"

"Nonsense, Brian!" he said. "Bribery implies I gave them something. I just made it clear I would appreciate the gesture. You will, of course, have to make up for your missed time in summer school."

I groaned.

* * *

My first day at Clarendon started with a meeting with Principal Nakamura, who made it clear without saying it that he was suspicious of my "misfiled" leave of absence and, therefore, of me as well.

Whatever.

Other than that, nothing particularly noteworthy happened that day until I saw who was waiting for me outside the apartment building.

"Hey, Brian, my man!"

I paused and turned to the familiar voice. "Charlie," I said, grinning as he detached himself from the wall he was leaning on.

With blond hair and blue eyes, Charles Bigelow looked like one of the E88's poster boys, but while he _has_ had a few brushes with the law - who hasn't, in this town? - he wasn't crazy or dumb enough to join the Empire.

"What brings you by, Charlie?" I asked. "I'd invite you in, but... well."

"Yeah, I get it," he said, nodding as he clapped my shoulder. "So, your old man told me you were at school. Thought you were going for your GED?"

"Found a job," I explained. "Part time, go-fer stuff, and he's willing to work around my school schedule."

"Pfft!" Charlie snorted, waving it off. "You're kidding, right? Listen, I came by 'cause I found us a gig. Nothing fancy, just some off the books security. Two grand for one night."

I shrugged his hand off my shoulder and shook my head. "Sorry, man, but my new boss is expecting me there tonight. I need a _steady_ job; I can't just blow this off."

"You don't get it, Brian," he pressed. "That's two grand _each_ , just to stand around and look tough for a few hours."

I rolled my eyes. Charlie was always looking for the next big score. The idea of holding a steady job seemed anathema to him.

"I'm _serious_ , Charlie," I said, backing off. "Listen, man, I'll catch you later, but I've got to _go_."

"You're missing out!" he called, but he didn't follow as I headed up to the apartment to put my books away.

I was telling the truth. I couldn't miss out on this.

We needed to figure out what my cape name was going to be.

* * *

"What about 'Grue'?" I suggested. We were in one of Wayne manor's lounges. Bookshelves lined the walls, but these were occupied with decorations and magazines, rather than books like in the libraries.

Dr. Wayne stared at me for a moment, then barked out a laugh. "Ha! I haven't heard a Zork reference in _years_. Still, I don't think it would work very well. Unless you're planning on _eating_ the criminals you catch?"

I knew he wasn't serious, but... "Don't even joke about that, Doc." I shuddered.

"Yes, well," he said, "'Grue' might work if you were planning on being a villain."

I winced. I _had_ still been considering that when I first came up with the name.

"Well," I thought back to the last name he'd suggested, "'Shadow Stalker' is just too much of a mouthful," I said. "It's... pretentious." We'd gone through several "shadow" and "dark" name ideas, but most of them were taken.

So far, "Dark Knight" was topping the available list, but it sounded less like a name and more like a title.

"How about-?"

We heard a scream. A very familiar scream. "BRUCE!"

Our eyes met. We bolted from the lounge. As we emerged into the orchard behind the manor, we saw Mrs. Wayne waiting for us, looking distraught. I didn't see Mrs. Wayne much; she wanted nothing to do with the plan Dr. Wayne, Mr. Dent, and I were hatching.

"Martha," Dr. Wayne said, "what happened?"

"It's Bruce," she said. "The well..." she trailed off and pointed.

"That well's been boarded up for decades," he murmured. He turned. "Alfred-"

"Rope, of course. Right away, Master Thomas," the butler bowed and hurried off.

I leaned over the well, squinting in the natural darkness. "Bruce, can you hear me down there?"

"Yeah." His voice was faint but steady. He was holding together pretty damn well for a kid his age.

"Are you hurt?"

"Yeah," he said. "My arm."

"Just hold it still, then," I said. "Alfred's bringing some rope, and as soon as he gets back, I'll be right down there to get you out, okay?"

"Okay."

It wasn't long before Alfred got back with the rope, and after tying it into a harness, he and Dr. Wayne lowered me down. The well was relatively shallow - thank goodness for Brockton Bay's high water table - and mostly dry, probably why it was boarded up to begin with. Water a couple of inches deep trickled, and parts of the well's walls down here had been eroded or broken away, leaving gaps that opened up to ominous darkness. I imagined that was what my power looked like to other people.

Pulling myself out of the harness, I took a moment to check on Bruce. His arm was broken, but aside from a few tears, he was holding together. Tough kid. Good thing Dr. Wayne had given me an arm splint, just in case. After strapping the splint into place and strapping him into the harness, I looked up.

"All right!" I called up, loud as I could. "He's strapped in!"

That... wasn't the smartest move, and I had just enough time to realize that before, disturbed by my voice, _things_ began swarming out of the gaps in the well walls.

"Jesus!"

I didn't think. I grabbed Bruce and wrapped myself around him as the creatures swarmed around us, seeking the fading daylight above.

 _Bats,_ I realized. _They're_ bats.

* * *

After Dr. Wayne had seen to Bruce's arm, we returned to the lounge where we had been brainstorming.

"I know what my cape name will be," I said without preamble.

"Oh?" Dr. Wayne said. "Do tell."

I nodded and looked over at him.

"Call me... Batman."


	3. Flicker 1-2

**Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising**  
 _Flicker 1.2_

I crouched on the rooftop in full costume.

Had anyone been looking, I would have been a striking sight. A dark grey body suit wrapped in a billowing black cape. Black elbow-length gloves and knee-length boots lined with scalloped fins added to the image, and the only spot of color was a yellow circle on my chest serving as the background to a black bat silhouette.

Across the street was an Empire 88 storehouse, a dilapidated-looking two-storey tenement building that I'd been scoping out for a while. There were two balconies on the second floor of the front of the building, while the windows facing the alley behind were boarded up, and a decorative safety railing ringed the roof.

I switched the vision mode in my cowl's optics first to thermal imaging, then to light amplification to double check. Two patrolling on the rooftop with AKs, always at opposite ends of the roof. Another hot spot inside, near the roof access, too big to be one person... probably two, there to hold the stairwell in case someone came through the roof. Two more on the balconies, some kind of long gun hidden behind planters. Another pair of sentries lounging on the front steps, one with the butt of a handgun peeking out from the back of his pants. There were other heat sources inside, but they too indistinct to get a good read.

Wrapping myself in darkness, I grapped my cape, held my arms out, and leaped off the rooftop. The cape caught the wind, and the memory fiber in it stiffened, snapping into its preprogrammed shape and allowing me to silently glide to the other rooftop.

I glided right up to the back of my first target, expanding my darkness to envelope us both as I bowled him over the far railing of the roof, wrapping my left hand around his mouth. A sedative in my glove put him to sleep. My right hand shot up and activated the grapple gun, which anchored itself into the roof edge with a faint "chink!" and turned our fall into an arc that swing back up to an ornamental gargoyle on the building's corner.

Although the rear of the tenement building faced a rather dismal alley and the windows were boarded up, there was still a thoroughly bored guard at the back door. Still, he didn't look up - few people bothered to, since the flyers in town tended to announce their presence - and I secured my first prisoner, hanging from the gargoyle.

I peeked for the other guard, whose patrol circuit was approaching me. I waited until he turned away before rising up, supporting myself with my foot on the roof under the railing. My left hand snaked through the railing, while my right grabbed the back of his leather jacket.

Snikt!

I slapped a handcuff around his wrist and pulled on his jacket. As he entered my darkness, he let out a muffled yelp, dropping his AK in surprise. As he came over the railing, the handcuffs stopped him, the other end cuffed to the railing itself as I smashed his head into the wall and knocked him out.

Next, the back door guard. He was actually leaning against the door, and while he looked relaxed, he _was_ alert enough to occasionally scan the alley. A pump-action shotgun was leaning against the wall next to the door. He took a long drag from a cigarette as I considered my options.

Attaching the grapple line to the roof railing directly above him, I leaped, going for distance. The grapple line went taut at the preset distance, and I twisted. The back door guard had just enough time to look up at the flicker of shadow and start reaching for the shotgun when my feet slammed into chest, kicking him through the door.

I crouched on his chest and paused, listening. After zip-tying his wrists together, I stood up and unleashed my power. Within moments, the entire building was dark.

And I went to work.

* * *

After I had restrained the Empire thugs, I took the time to find a phone inside the storehouse and dial 911 before returning to the roof of the building I'd launched my attack from. I had my power barely active, just enough to hide the brighter parts of my costume, and a few minutes later, an unmarked car arrived, the police light on the dash flashing.

The driver parked the car just below my vantage point, and I saw a tall, broad-shouldered man with crew cut blond hair cross the street and walk up to the front door, a confident swagger in his step.

He gave a perfunctory knock, and the door swung open. Even from up here, I could tell he was surprised as he jumped back and pulled his gun, carefully backing away.

Not long after, more police arrived, along with a PRT van, and the storehouse was abuzz with activity. No surprise there. The place had been well-stocked with drugs, guns, cash, and other valuables which were probably stolen, and a building full of gang bangers generally don't knock themselves out and tie themselves up unless there's a cape involved.

Like me.

I'm still not entirely sure why I waited. I guess I just had to see with my own eyes that what I'd done that night mattered. It was the first mistake I'd made in my cape career, and it wouldn't be the last.

It was, however, one of the best mistakes I'd ever make.

"So, admiring your handiwork?"

I spun, letting my darkness stretch out to obscure my position. Standing just outside the roof access as the door swung shut behind him was another cop, plainclothes, with red hair, glasses, and a mustache. His badge glinted at his belt.

"Something like that," I said, keeping my voice to a low growl as I drew my power back in again.

Surprisingly, the cop walked out to stand by the edge of the rooftop, glancing down at his colleagues.

"A lot of folks in the BBPD don't like capes."

I grunted and shifted uncomfortably.

"I'm not one of them," he added. He paused, then introduced himself, "Detective Gordon."

"Batman," I replied, stepping back from the roof's edge. He continued gazing down at the storehouse. Whatever he said next, I didn't hear, as I spread my darkness and took off.

* * *

Clarendon wasn't exactly the best school in town, but it wasn't the worst either, and the faculty cared enough that any gang presence was kept quiet. I didn't really see the point, but Doc had insisted, and I wasn't going to blow it off and mess everything up. Still, I generally kept to myself.

It was when I was leaving at the end of the day on Friday when I felt my hackles rise. A quick glance around showed why.

There were three of them. All jocks. All white. And they had clearly targeted me for something. No points for guessing what went through _my_ mind.

They flanked me, making a horrible effort at looking casual, but before I could step clear, one of them reached an arm out toward me.

I couldn't help it. It was reflex.

"Oof!"

Lying on his back with my knee on his chest, he coughed and grinned. He shot a look at his two buddies. "See? What did I tell you?"

 _What?_

Blinking in confusion, I backed off. "What's this about?"

The first guy picked himself up and dusted himself off.

"Listen, Brian, right?"

"Yeah." I nodded warily.

"I'm Nelson," he said. "Nelson Nash. These are my bros, Dirk and Mason." He nodded to his two comrades. "You wrestle?"

I shrugged. "I box a little."

"Listen, man," Nelson said, "you're obviously in shape, and you've got some good moves. Ever thought about joining the wrestling team?"

I stared.

"Just... think about it, man," Nelson said, offering a friendly wave as they left.

I shook my head and headed home.

I didn't have time for something like that.

* * *

"Hey, bro!" greeted me as I entered the apartment.

"Aisha?" I looked over at Dad. "Didn't she have some Girl Scout thing to do this weekend?"

Dad rolled his eyes. " _You_ try talking to her," he said.

I looked at Aisha, who met my gaze with a wide-eyed stare. I could almost _see_ the halo around her head.

"What?" she asked innocently. "They cancelled. Troop leader got sick. So here I am, bro."

"Sorry, Aisha," I said, "but my job-"

"She can't stay here with me," Dad said. "This isn't my weekend, and you _know_ your mother."

I winced. He was right. Once Mom got clear-headed enough, she'd probably use this violation of the custody agreement to leverage more alimony.

"I'll... I'll call Doc Wayne," I said. "Let him know I've got to watch Aisha."

* * *

 _This is a bad idea,_ I thought as Alfred drove us to Wayne Manor. I looked over at Aisha, who was busy staring at everything one found in the back seat of a limo. Including what I was pretty sure was a (thankfully locked) mini bar.

I hated to put the old man out like this, but I didn't have a car, wasn't old enough to drive if I had one, and Wayne Manor wasn't exactly on the bus route, so we didn't have a lot of options.

"So, what do you do for this Wayne guy, anyway, bro?"

"Technically," I said, "I'm an intern." I paused and added, "A _paid_ intern."

"Oh," she said. "So, what? You take calls and give head?"

" _What?_ " I stared at her as I processed that. " _No_ , Aisha," I said, rubbing my temples. "Just... no." No need to ask where she heard _that_ kind of language.

Don't get me wrong. She's my sister, and I love her, but... well, Mom liked getting high, and she certainly didn't let being pregnant with Aisha stop her from having a good time. Aisha ended up with some... self-control issues, and Mom was as irresponsible as ever.

"I'm his personal assistant," I lied, giving the cover story we'd already arranged. "Kind of a gopher, really. You know, 'go for this, go for that.' In exchange, I get a little pocket money, and it looks good on my resume."

"Oh," she said, bouncing in her seat. "'Kay."

 _Mrs. Wayne is going_ kill _me if she gets within a hundred feet of Bruce,_ I concluded.

* * *

Bruce was kind of standoffish, but Aisha didn't let that stop her, so it was with a bit of a bemused expression that I watched the two of them playing in the orchard.

"I have to admit, young man, this was a brilliant idea."

I turned and barely kept from boggling. "What... do you mean, Mrs. Wayne?"

"Bruce has had a rough time these past couple of months," she said. "First the mugging, then falling down the old well..." She shook her head. "Your sister may be a bit... crude... but she getting him out of his shell, and I can only be thankful for that. Now I just need to teach her some decorum."

 _Aisha?_ I thought. _**Decorum?**_ I shuddered.

"Run along, Brian," she said, shooing me away. "I can keep an eye on them well enough, and I believe Tom wanted to discuss something with you about that cave you found connected to the well."

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

I was in costume again, but this time, I wasn't heading for an illegal storehouse or patrolling for crime. I had a very different destination in mind.

I hid in the shadows and waited. It wasn't long before my target emerged, carrying the garbage.

"Detective Gordon."

The man spun, eyes darting around before settling on my patch of darkness. His eyes narrowed. "Batman, I presume."

Pulling my darkness back, I stepped forward and nodded. "I've checked your file," I said. "You're a good man, a good cop."

"I like to think so."

"You didn't tell the PRT about me." It wasn't a question.

He hesitated. "No, I didn't. Figured if you wanted to, you knew where they were."

"Thank you."

I tossed him a burner phone, which he caught easily. He flipped it open and looked at it.

"A phone?"

"Speed dial one if you ever need to reach me," I said before spreading my darkness and leaving.


	4. Flicker 1-3

**Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising**  
 _Flicker 1.3_

The Empire 88 was, bar none, the biggest gang in Brockton Bay, but it was far from the only one. The docks were mostly divided up between three Asian gangs: the Rising Sons, the White Jade, and the Azn Bad Boys; the last time the Empire tried moving in, they allied together long enough to beat the Nazis back. And then, of course, there were the Merchants, but they didn't so much claim territory as cling to what none of the other gangs wanted.

The Rising Sons were mostly disaffected refugees from Kyushu, while the White Jade were refugees fleeing the Yangban. The Azn Bad Boys were just the local branch of a nationwide gang from the west coast. It was mostly made up of Asian-Americans who didn't really have nearly as much attachment to their ancestral roots as they claimed.

After hitting the Empire, I made sure to spread my targets among the other gangs; the last thing I wanted was to be mistaken for just another gang member. I'd even made a note to drop my cape name to some of the perps I'd taken down.

Brockton Bay's days as a major port city were long since over, thanks to the Boat Graveyard, but there was still some shipping, and where there's any sea trade, there's smuggling. I wasn't entirely sure what the shipment was - my intel network wasn't that good yet - but it had to be important to the Azn Bad Boys, given their level of activity. There were about a dozen of them in the distinctive red and green.

I watched and waited as they had off-loaded the crate from the ship with a forklift. I needed to wait, hit them when they thought they were strongest. So long as they didn't put it on a faster vehicle, I was content with following and waiting. Fortunately, they kept the crate on the forklift; it appeared they weren't going far. They eventually pulled into a warehouse and set the crate down. I could see the guards visibly relax as the rolling door clattered shut. Two of the ABB members had stayed in the warehouse with the shipment, four more returned to the ship, and another four drove off in a sedan.

That left two outside by the rolling door. Simple enough to take down. I just had to release my darkness and drop down on them from the roof.

Inside was going to be a bit trickier. The warehouse was one big, two-storey room, so there would be long lines of sight, unless the warehouse was arranged sloppily.

I flicked to thermal vision after carefully prying open a window and slipping in. Four of them. Two of them were by the shipment, both armed, the two I'd seen accompanying the shipment from the ship. One stood by the front door, on the opposite end of the warehouse from the rolling door, while the last was in the corner office, apparently on the phone, judging from his posture. The crates in the warehouse were stacked two high and arranged in rows, with an area near the rolling door cleared out to make room for the new shipment.

I circled around to the front entrance. A sentry, peeking out the window to the deserted street out front. I released my darkness again to muffle the noise as I pounced. He barely put up a struggle as I put him into a sleeper hold and gently laid him on the floor, rolling him over to zip tie his hands and feet.

Office next. I waited until he hung up before flooding the office with darkness and opening the door. He had a sword - one of the ABB's higher-ranking non-cape lieutenants, then - and good instincts. He lashed out into the darkness, backing away form the door.

Too bad for him I wasn't coming through the door. I smashed through the office window and grabbed him from behind. Another sleeper hold, another zip tie.

Just the two by the crate left. I maneuvered across the tops of the crates until I stood above and behind them.

No one ever looks up, especially not indoors.

Darkness again.

"Shit!" one of them swore.

The distinct staccato of an AK-type rifle sounded, muffled by my darkness, as one of them fired in a panic. I glided down and bowled him over, smacking his face into the concrete floor. Drawing my darkness around myself, I rose up from my crouch, facing the other. It was a move I'd practiced, making it look like I was melding out of the shadows themselves.

As they other guard turned, shotgun in hand, I swatted it aside and punched him in the throat; not hard enough to crush his trachea, but enough to leave him gasping as he fell to his knees.

After zip tying them, I turned to the shipment. With the help of a crowbar, it didn't take long to pry it open, revealing... DVDs? My eyes narrowed, and I dug deeper, shoving the DVD's aside until I found what was underneath.

Guns. And not just any guns, either. Some sort of futuristic-looking underbarrel mount. Tinker tech.

That's when the rolling door opened. I turned. The four who had drive off had returned, along with a pickup truck and one more addition to the group.

"It's the Batman!" one of the thugs swore. I flooded the area with my darkness and fired my grapple gun up into the rafters. Gunfire riddled the crate where I had just been standing.

The new arrival held up her hand, and the gangbangers stopped firing. She was standing just outside the edge of my darkness, backlit by the floodlight behind her. She wore an iridescent green Chinese dress, with a straight sword with a pair of red tassels at her side, but the most striking part of her costume was the strip of cloth she wore over her eyes, red splotches where her eyes would be.

This wasn't the first time I'd hit one of the smaller gangs. It wasn't even the first time I'd hit the ABB. But it would be the first time I'd fight another cape.

She was called Dragonfly. She was the local ABB branch's second in command, and... a Thinker, if I remembered right, with some sort of spatial awareness. Rumor had it that she was a former student of Crane the Harmonious.

She waved the others back. "Chen, Wu, I will deal with him," she said, stepping into my darkness.

I reached to my belt for one of the toys Mr. Fox had provided. Batarangs, we called them. I felt they were kind of silly, but I couldn't deny their effectiveness when I'd used them before.

This time, however, it was less than successful. Drawing her sword in a flash of movement, Dragonfly deflected the batarang before darting to the side. She hit a large button with the pommel of her sword, sending the rolling door clattering shut again, while her left hand pulled a lever, killing the lights in the warehouse.

Darkness - _real_ darkness, not mine - engulfed the interior of the warehouse, and I found myself barely able to see. I heard a faint patter moving rapidly closer, and I flicked my cowl's optics to light-amplification.

I barely managed to get an arm up in time to block her sword. My gloves were armored and stopped the blade cold. I rotated my arm, the scalloped fins trapping the blade briefly, but she pulled it back before I could wrench it out of her hands.

"I do not need eyes to see you, Batman," she said, smirking as she pressed the attack. I danced back as she started slashing at me, not giving me time to regain my balance.

I parried a few of her blows, but it didn't even break her rhythm. Finally, I ran out of crates and fell back. My cape stiffened - some serious tinker tech bullshit there - and caught enough air to keep me from hitting the floor too hard.

I rolled to my right to avoid being impaled, and her sword skittered across the floor, briefly sparking as she dragged it toward me before pulling it back, giving me the opportunity to kip-up to my feet.

 _I will never complain about Mister Grant's training again,_ I thought.

We squared off again, dancing around each other, before she lunged with her sword. I brought my cape up and grabbed the blade through my cape, pulling her toward me as I slugged her in the face.

Or tried to, anyway. She released the sword and leaned back under my punch. Her hand lashed out and grabbed my wrist, falling gracefully to the ground as she brought a foot up to my midsection and sent me flying, the sword slipping from my fingers.

I barely had time to tuck in and brace before my shoulders smashed through the wooden crate, sending grain flying everywhere. I picked myself up and shook my head, trying to clear it. I could see her through the cloud of grain dust in the air, but she seemed... uncertain?

She gave a tentative jab in my general direction, but it came nowhere close to hitting me. _What on Earth...?_ I wondered before realization struck. _She can't see me._

Whatever Thinker power she used to "see" didn't work through the cloud of dust. Which was now beginning to settle.

I reached back into the crate and hurled more grain into the air, and she stepped back as the renewed cloud nearly reached her.

I lunged forward, batting her sword aside, and bull rushed her. She was fast and skilled - better than I was, really - but sometimes, body mass is all that counts, and a flying tackle is one of those times. I slammed bodily into her, sending us both flying through the boarded up window.

The light-amplification in my cowl automatically cut out as we tumbled onto the floodlight outside. I reached up and smashed her head back once... twice, and she fell still, the only movement the slow rise and fall of her breathing.

I looked up. The four remaining gangbangers were staring. I drew myself up into a crouch and let my darkness spread like a cloak behind me as I vaulted off the floodlight, walking toward them slowly, implacably.

They broke and ran.

Once they were clear, I turned back to secure Dragonfly. After a moment's thought, I decided not to move her; I was bruised and tired, and it was easier to just leave her on the floodlight and restrain her there.

* * *

About an hour later, I was tending to my bruises. Dragonfly had landed a few solid hits with her sword, and though my costume - made of a tough, tinker tech impact fiber that stiffened when struck - stopped it, it didn't diminish the force behind her blows. I had checked her profile on PHO when I got home: Thinker 5/Brute 1/Mover 1. I had _thought_ she was stronger than she'd looked.

I made a mental note to be more prepared. I had previously dismissed the idea of carrying smoke bombs because I thought my power made them redundant, but tonight had proven me wrong.

But more than that... I needed help. I needed someone who could look up and feed me information in real time. It was something to think about.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of my burner phone's ringtone. Blinking, I reached over and picked it up.

"Yes?" I growled.

"Got a taste for the spectacular, I see." It was Gordon.

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Tying Dragonfly to the floodlight," he said. "You mean it wasn't deliberate?"

" _What_ wasn't deliberate?"

"Look at the sky."

Frowning, I opened my window and stuck my head out to see what he was talking about.

There, against the backdrop of the clouds in the overcast sky, was the light from the floodlight, with a shadowy shape - vaguely resembling a bat with its wings spread if you squinted right - in the middle.

"Huh."


	5. Interlude 1A - Various

**Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising**  
 _Interlude 1A - Colin, Ted, Arnold, Jim, Victor, Danny_

Colin rode his motorcycle to the docks, a frown on his face. Normally, a pick up like this didn't require Protectorate involvement, but this was... a special case. He was lucky to have been taking a brief break from his tinkering when he saw the symbol emblazoned in the sky.

By the time the BBPD called it in, he was already on his way, in full costume. As he approached the police cordon, he slowed his motorcycle to a halt and dismounted as he looked around. One of the BBPD officers ushered him past the cordon and around the warehouse to the crime scene proper. Despite the BBPD crawling all over the place, there was only a single PRT squad on site, and it looked like they were mostly busy processing the contents of a crate just inside the warehouse.

"Armsmaster, sir." He quickly cross-referenced his helmet's facial recognition software: PRT Captain Howard Branden.

"Howard," he greeted. "What's the situation?"

"ABB arms shipment, tinker tech weapons, and someone took them down hard," Branden said. "Whoever it was also nailed Dragonfly and used her to send a message." He turned and nodded to the floodlight near the warehouse, and Colin understood: Dragonfly had been tied to the floodlight, her body producing the image he'd seen in the sky.

PRT protocols made Thinkers a priority target because of the potential information leaks and the coordination they could offer their allies. Dragonfly managed to achieve the same status for neither of those reasons. Colin had fought her a few times, but she had always managed to slip away.

"Where is she now?"

"BBPD arrived first and already made the arrest before calling us in," Branden answered, a sour look on his face, "but they've turned custody of her over to us. She's in the van."

Colin frowned. It was an obvious political stunt. The BBPD would be able to celebrate their arrest of a dangerous parahuman villain, second in command of the local ABB branch. That would go a long way toward improving the BBPD's reputation and probably their funding too, but given how long she'd been operating in Brockton Bay, there would be some negative backlash against the PRT and Protectorate.

Unfortunate.

"And who do we have to thank for this?" he asked. "Batman?"

"That's what the perps say."

Colin wondered what this meant. Previously, the so-called "Batman" had focused on non-capes, despite hitting a number of high-value targets. Was this an accident or an escalation? It was hard to tell.

Troubling, since Batman had already been playing for higher stakes than most independent heroes. Even the Protectorate was wary of attacking the gangs as brazenly as Batman had since his debut.

What made it worse was the fact that they still didn't have a good read on Batman's motives. It was clear none of the gangs held his loyalty, enough that they were reasonably confident in classifying him as a hero... but most heroes wanted to _be heroes_ , with the fame and recognition that came with it. In contrast, Batman had hardly shown his mask to anyone, not even his victims, and _no one_ seemed able to give a clear description of him.

The minority of heroes who didn't want - or at least appreciate - the recognition tended to be the most fanatical, the most reckless, the most brutal, and they had a tendency to kick off gang wars, ultimately doing more harm than good. And that was setting aside the possibility Batman was simply taking out the competition before setting up his own gang.

Yes, this was deeply concerning.

* * *

Grant's Gym was a converted brownstone in downtown Brockton Bay, just on the edge of Empire 88 territory. The owner was a barrel-chested, grizzled old man with salt and pepper hair, and he offered a number of different training programs, mainly boxing and self-defense. He also had a strict "no gangs" policy, and for reasons that weren't entirely clear, none of the gangs were willing to press him on the matter.

Naturally, rumors abounded.

Ted studiously avoided paying any attention to them. Let people think what they wanted; he knew the truth. He looked down at his latest prospective student. The dark-skinned girl couldn't have been more than twelve years old, maybe thirteen. He would have dismissed her out of hand, except... he could see a fire in her eyes. He'd had that drive once, before he retired, and only one of his current students could match it.

He turned and brought a hand to his mouth. "Brian!" he called. When the boy looked up, he said, "In the ring, kid! Got a sparring partner for you today."

Ted was proud of Brian. They shared similar roots in boxing, and the kid had that rare combination of both talent and work ethic. He'd driven Brian hard in the first few weeks since Dr. Wayne had purchased his services, but the kid had taken to it without... well, not without complaint - there was griping a-plenty - but without hesitation.

He turned to the girl, who was looking at him quizzically. "Well, girl?" he said, tilting his head to the ring. "Get in there. Show us what you've got."

She bristled and said, "The name's Sophia." As she climbed into the ring, she paused and looked over her shoulder at him. "No holds barred?"

He considered that for a moment. Looking past the girl, he met Brian's gaze. A silent message passed between them. The kid wouldn't hurt her either way. Good.

"Up to you, girl."

* * *

Normally, being a detective in Brockton Bay was a pretty cushy job. Sure, the beat cops had it rough whenever the tension between the gangs got violent, but that was rare.

The truth was, beyond petty crimes and the occasional crime of passion - which were generally pretty open and shut - there wasn't much for the BBPD to do. Nobody _cared_ what the BBPD did. With all the cape gangs in town, anything that made the news was inevitably the PRT's jurisdiction, and everyone knew it.

And although the BBPD was underfunded, they still held enough power that a detective who knew the right people could bank some serious cash. And Detective Arnold Flass knew the right people.

Over the past several months, however, things had changed.

When the new shadow cape first hit the Empire storehouse, Arnold has brushed it off. New capes were popping up in Brockton Bay all the time, after all. An independent hero wouldn't have the balls to try something like this, so it was probably a new recruit from one of the chink gangs.

Except this "Batman" had then hit a Rising Sons brothel. Then a Merchant drug lab. A White Jade arms depot. An ABB shipment. No one was safe. And no one seemed able to stop him.

Arnold preferred to keep a low profile, an occasional meeting with Ross to "gossip," passing on info or receiving "incentives" to "disappear" certain paperwork or evidence. But just a month ago, Ross had all but dragged him to a meeting with _Kaiser himself._

He thanked every god of every faith that Kaiser was smart enough to understand that, no, the BBPD did not have access to the files on a PRT investigation.

Still, he'd promised to find out what he could. On pain of... he didn't want to think about it.

"Hey, Howard!" he called, waving at the PRT squad leader who just happened to be a drinking buddy of his. "How's the Batman case coming along?"

* * *

Jim waited in the alley, pulling his coat tight around himself to ward off the winter chill.

There were times he wondered if it was worth it, wearing the shield. Brockton Bay was a cape town, after all. The BBPD was underfunded and undermanned. The OCTF had long-since been defunded, SWAT hadn't made an arrest in years, and Narcotics might as well not exist for all the difference they were making in the city.

It had been beyond frustrating. Whenever a parahuman suspect became involved - which happened far too often in this town - the BBPD had to hand the investigation off to the PRT. And somehow, almost none of those cases ever seemed to end in an arrest.

Those times were getting rarer these days. In the months since the Empire storehouse bust, arrests and convictions were up, and crime was dropping, slowly but steadily.

All thanks to Batman.

That was why he was here. Only a few of Batman's busts included capes, so the PRT had no jurisdiction over the rest, but they _were_ looking into the man himself. The spectacular way he'd restrained Dragonfly and the fact that the BBPD instead of the PRT had made the arrest had left some resentment in the local branch of the federal agency. There wasn't much evidence on who Batman was or what his powers were, but there was a lot of speculation.

"Gordon."

Jim turned toward the voice. Once again, he mentally shook his head at the comparatively unassuming figure. Batman was a broad-shouldered, well-muscled young man dressed in a well-made - possibly tinker tech - costume. The cowl left his jaw exposed and revealed his ethnicity... not that any of the perps seemed able to testify to that.

In contrast, half the PRT were convinced he was a Case 53, some sort of living shadow, while the other half thought he was a Changer. They were equally split on whether he was a Master who caused hallucinations or a Shaker who created illusions or outright altered reality, and they were all confident assigning him low Brute and Mover ratings. A few thought he was a Tinker who'd gotten some serious funding, but most seemed to have dismissed the idea.

"You said there was something we needed to discuss," Batman said, breaking him out of his introspection.

"Yeah," Jim confirmed. "A few nights ago, some Rising Sons tried to mug a couple in this alley."

"'Tried'?"

Jim nodded. "The vics say they were saved by a living shadow. One of the perps was pinned to the wall over there with a crossbow bolt."

"Not my style."

"Didn't think so," Jim said, "but the PRT's convinced it's you. They've bumped you up their priority list. Thought I'd give you fair warning."

Batman frowned. "Why?"

Jim paused to consider that.

"You're making a difference," he said finally. "Too many capes treat this like a game, and the rest of us just get trampled underfoot. You care."

"I see. Thank you."

* * *

Victor had three Masters degrees - in physics, biology, and biochemistry - but he wasn't a doctor. Maybe if he was, he wouldn't be feeling so... frustrated.

He'd been working on his doctoral thesis when his wife fell ill. A man had to make priorities. His thesis would keep.

Medhall - _Anders_ \- had come to him with an offer: a lab and resources to work with to find a cure. He'd been confident then. He was smart, and he took pride in his work. Tinkers may make the headlines, but one only had to open up a scientific journal or skim a few peer-reviewed articles to see the truth. The _real_ breakthroughs in science were still led by non-capes, intelligent people using the classic combination of inspiration, sweat, and rigor to tease out the truth. People like him.

But he was failing. He had been working on it for years, practically living in the lab, as he watched her slowly... slipping... away...

 _If only I had more time!_ he thought despairingly. _If I could just... halt the progression long enough to-_

 _ **Destination.**_

Agreement.

Trajectory.

Agreement.

* * *

Danny watched the crews as they went to work. The past few months had been _good_. The mayor was still stalling on the ferry, but the infusion of money from Wayne Enterprises was helping. A lot. The Boat Graveyard was far from cleared out, but progress had been made, and shipping was already up.

"It's quite a sight, isn't it?"

He started and turned. It only took him a moment to recognize him. "Doctor Wayne! I'm sorry, I... wasn't expecting you."

"I was in the neighborhood," the city's benefactor said, "and I thought I'd drop by, see how my investments are doing."

Danny resisted a snort. He wasn't a high-level executive or an accountant, but it was obvious to anyone that the Waynes were pouring enough money into the city that it would take years just to break even.

"It's going well," he said instead.

"Good to hear," Wayne said, nodding. "I understand it's going to take a few years to fully clear out the bay - something about toxic chemical containment - but I'm glad we're making progress."

"I - _we_ \- can't thank you enough, Doctor Wayne," Danny said, reaching out a hand. "This city owes you more than we can ever repay."

"No, it doesn't, Mister Hebert," Dr. Wayne said, shaking his hand. "I've been away for far too long, but it's my city too."


	6. Shade 2-1

**Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising**  
 _Shade 2.1_

Dr. Wayne called it the Batcave. I had to admit, it was an appropriate name - and technically accurate - even if it did sound more than a little corny.

I drew the line at "Batcomputer," though. That was just silly. It wasn't even really tinkertech. It was a high-end mainframe, loaded with top of the line software, including a few tinkertech programs, but the hardware itself was conventional. I didn't know how it worked, only how to use it, but it gave us a finger on the city's electronic pulse. It sifted through the wealth of data and gave me targets.

Whoever the crossbow-wielding shadow cape was, he'd struck half a dozen times - five muggings and an attempted rape - and didn't seem to care any more about gang affiliations than I did.

It... irked me to be associated with this. Okay, fine. Shadowy caped crusader, doesn't care about pissing off the gangs, but what I was doing _mattered_. I hit drug houses and brothels and arms depots, and I shut them down. But this? Pinning muggers to walls? That was going too far for too little.

I had to put a stop to it, and not just because the PRT thought it was me.

There had to be a pattern, but I wasn't a good enough detective to spot it just yet, and Mr. Dent didn't have the time to work on our cases directly, so I left the computer crunching the variables.

I needed a break.

* * *

Of course, I still had school. Not much generally happened there, though. Clarendon was one of the better schools, so nothing happened on the gang front, and after I made it clear to Nash and the other jocks that I wasn't interested in joining any teams, they left me alone. Nobody wanted someone who wasn't in it to win it, after all.

It was lunch time on a Friday when I met the twins.

"Hi!"

I blinked and looked up. A flustered-looking girl was sitting across from me, with another girl standing behind her, hands on her shoulders. The one behind then rested her arms on top of the other girl's head and grinned. The flustered expression was quickly replaced with annoyance. Both of them were blonde, with the most gorgeous blue-grey eyes. The sitting one was wearing a baggy hoodie, with her hair pulled into a ponytail; her bangs hung over her eyes. In sharp contrast, the standing girl wore a devastating tank top and miniskirt combo and wore her hair loose.

"Hey. Brian, right?" the standing girl asked. At my hesitant nod, she said, "I'm Deidre, and this is my sister Delia."

My gaze drifted down to the girl seated across from me. Once I took a moment to look past the drastically different hair style and clothing, I could see the resemblance. "Twins?" I hazarded a guess, looking back up at Deidre.

"You noticed!" Deidre cheered, giving a little clap. "Most people don't. _Anyway_ , my dear sister would like to know if you're busy this weekend."

I looked back down to Delia, who was blushing furiously and trying to shrink into her hoodie. I cocked an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"

"Given the googly eyes she's been sending your way since you transferred in, yeah, I'm pretty sure," Deidre said, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

I worked my jaw wordlessly for a moment. I had _not_ been expecting that. "Um, well..." I coughed. "I'm not... I..." Then I remembered, and I closed my eyes. "Shit. Actually, I can't. Sorry."

"Oh." Delia looked crestfallen as her sister positively glared daggers at me. She moved to get up.

"No, wait! Really!" I said, reaching out to grab Delia's hand. "Listen, I'm serious. I can't this weekend. This is Dad's weekend with Aisha - that's my sister - and we were planning on spending it together." I tilted my head. "But... next weekend, I should be free?"

"Good. Next Friday night then, pick her up at six," Deidre pronounced.

"But, I..." I trailed off as she walked away, "...don't have a car." Hell, I was still a few months away from getting my license. I looked back at Delia. "Does... does she do that a lot?"

Delia sighed. "You get used to it."

* * *

I had told them the truth. It _was_ Dad's weekend with Aisha, so I had to take a different route when school let out so I could walk her to the apartment. Of course, by the time I got there, school had already let out, and most of Aisha's schoolmates were already gone.

"Aisha?" I called, looking around.

"Mister Laborn?"

I turned toward the voice. She had platinum blonde hair, blue eyes, a sharp cut pantsuit, and a very disapproving expression.

"Principal..." I racked my brain for a moment, "...Moore."

"I take it you're here for your sister?" she said.

"Yes, ma'am," I said, nodding politely. "Um, where is she?"

"Waiting in my office," she answered. "Perhaps you can explain where your mother is. We left five messages."

I shrugged honestly. "I don't... talk with Mom much. What happened?"

"Your sister got into a brawl with three other girls," she said frostily.

"Did she win?"

Yeah, I know. Dumb. I regretted saying it the moment the words left my mouth.

"You can ask her yourself," she said, her voice somehow even colder, "but make sure she shows up for detention tomorrow, Mister Laborn."

I sighed. "I will, Miss Moore."

"And I suggest you find another outlet for her... energy."

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

It felt good to be boxing again.

No fancy acrobatics, no weapons, no low blows or eye gouging. Just the power and simplicity of the sweet science.

We _had_ been planning a day trip down to Boston on Saturday - Dad's idea - but Aisha's detention pretty much nixed that, leaving me and Dad at loose ends. Dad decided he'd take the opportunity to get some last-minute overtime in, and after walking Aisha to her detention, I headed over to Grant's Gym.

I ducked under Mr. Grant's power jab, then sent in a quick left feint before coming back up with a right hook. He blocked, and-

"Oof!"

-a blindingly fast right cross to the chest knocked the breath out of me and sent me to the mat.

"Not bad, kid," Mr. Grant said as he pulled me up. "You've still got a few things to learn, though."

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, dusting myself off.

"He totally kicked your ass, Laborn."

I gave Sophia a mock glare. "You wanna hit the mats, Soph?"

"Anytime, anywhere," she said cockily.

I waved her up. "Well, come on then, shorty."

Her eyes narrowed, and she grinned, vaulting up into the ring. Sparring with Sophia was an interesting experience. It helped my control, so I could precisely measure out the force behind each blow.

And while Mr. Grant had refined her style a bit, when she fought, she still fought dirty, just like the thugs that faced Batman.

She came at me, hard and fast, like she usually did. Despite - or perhaps because of - her small stature, she preferred power moves and disabling strikes. For whatever reason, she preferred to gamble on quick takedowns rather than the softer styles.

I dodged a punch and a kick, then twisted her into a gentle throw, leaning back to avoid a reverse thrust kick.

"Nice try, shorty," I said, "but you'll need longer legs for that to work."

She growled and twisted away. I let her go, and we squared off again.

The rest of the match continued in that vein, though she did manage to land a few hits. It was a refreshing match, and in a weird way, it reminded me of why we were doing this. Sophia and Aisha didn't have much in common, but...

Doc was right. Just getting custody of Aisha wasn't enough. I had to make Brockton Bay a better city for her to call home. And not just for her, but for other kids, like Sophia.

Just one more reason why I had to stop that crossbow vigilante.


	7. Shade 2-2

**Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising**  
 _Shade 2.2_

The night air felt good. Brockton Bay was surprisingly beautiful at night from the rooftops. Just looking at it, you wouldn't know the city was dying, the decay of abandoned buildings out by the docks hidden by the darkness, with the lights of downtown shining brightly.

The computer's number crunching had managed to spit out a likely patrol pattern for the crossbow vigilante, and it was refining the data constantly. Thursday night was my third night out, however, and I hadn't encountered him yet. Not surprising. With as little data as we had to go on, it wasn't like we could figure out his exact patrol route. At least without a bullshit Thinker backing us up, anyway. Still, unless he changed his patterns, it was only a matter of time.

As I glided from rooftop to rooftop near the boundary between downtown and the docks, movement caught my eye.

 _Bingo._

I adjusted my glide path slightly to stay ahead of the moving shadow, just as it dropped down into an alley. My darkness trailed behind me and muffled the sound as I landed gently on the edge of the opposite rooftop, a trick I'd pretty much mastered by now. It was useful not only for stealth, but the wispy appearance really added to the intimidation factor.

From here, I could see him going to work on a pair of Empire thugs. Whoever he had just saved had already run off. A heavy, black cloak swirled around, revealing the occasional flash of a black bodysuit with some cobbled together armor under it. The figure wore a hockey mask to conceal his face.

And come to think of it, he was awfully short. Knew how to fight too, with a style I couldn't quite place. Suddenly, he stopped and turned away from the skinhead he was beating on, crossbow leveled at the other one, who had managed to get back to his feet, leaning against the wall. He had a gun.

I was faster. The batarang knocked the Saturday night special from his hands as I dropped down into the alley. Three long strides later, I was in his face and slamming his head against the wall.

After zip tying him, I turned to the crossbow vigilante, who was securing the other skinhead.

"Good job," I said, glad for the new voice modulator; the growling I'd disguised my voice with before was hell on my throat.

"Batman," he - no, _she_ \- said, wonder in her voice. She sounded young, even through her attempt to disguise her voice; coupled with her height, she was probably a couple of years younger than me. "It's... wow, it's great to meet you."

"I think we need to talk," I said. "Can you get the roof on your own?"

"Yeah."

I nodded pulled out my grapple gun, using it to get back to the rooftop. As I watched, she jumped and shifted into a smoky-looking shadow; it wasn't quite flight, but it was enough to get her to the rooftop.

"So, what do I call you?" I asked.

"I... don't have a name yet," she said. "You know how hard it is to come up with a shadow- or darkness-themed name that isn't taken and _doesn't_ make me sound like a supervillain?"

I chuckled.

"Funnily enough, I do."

"Oh. Right." She paused, obviously embarrassed, and I resisted the urge to grin; it wouldn't do to make her think I was laughing at her. "I was... thinking of 'Shadow Stalker,'" she said shyly. "You like it?"

"It's... serviceable," I said. No need to tell her what I'd thought of it when I saw it on Dr. Wayne's list of names for me. "Your name, your decision. In the end, it's what you do under that name that'll define what it means to people."

"I guess," she said dubiously, then nodded firmly. "Yeah, that makes sense."

"So," I said, "you've been making quite a few waves."

She shrugged and looked away. "I try."

"You know, the PRT thinks it's me," I continued.

"They do?"

"They don't know too much about me," I pointed out, "except I have a shadow theme, and you sort of turn into one." I tilted my head. "Does it matter to you? That I get the credit?"

She paused to think about that for a moment. I wasn't sure if it was because it _did_ , and it never occurred to her that she wouldn't get credit... or if she'd never even thought about credit at all before now.

"No," she said finally, shaking her head. "It doesn't."

"I see," I said. "So what are you hoping to accomplish? Maybe I can help."

"Huh?" She looked up at me again.

I waved at the alley and, by implication, to the two Neo-Nazis we'd left unconscious and zip tied in it. "Why are you doing this, Shadow Stalker?"

"Because I'm strong. Like you."

"'Strong'?" I echoed, my forehead furrowing in confusion. _What does that have to do with anything?_ "What, you think beating up gang bangers makes us strong?"

"Yeah!" she said, nodding vigorously. "For all their bluster, these guys... they're weak. Scum. They don't have the guts to take on someone who can fight back. They're just... scavengers. Prey. _Our_ prey."

"And you're the hunter. Or would that be 'huntress'?"

"Exactly!" she said. "And you know what? I kinda like 'Huntress.'"

"I see," I mused aloud, then shook my head and turned to look toward the bright lights of downtown again. "I guess we all have our reasons."

After a long moment, she asked, "Why do _you_ do it?"

I'd been expecting that question.

"I do it to help Brockton Bay become the city it can be," I said. "You were right. We _are_ strong, but personally, I don't see strength as a virtue, not by itself."

"What do you mean?" She sounded genuinely confused.

"Don't get me wrong," I said. "It's good to be strong - it gives you options - but what's the point of power without purpose?"

"Huh?"

"Look at the gangs," I said. "They're strong, no doubt, but what do they use that strength for? They steal, they kill, they poison the city with drugs. They're _parasites_ , feeding off the city even as they kill it inch by inch. And when it finally dies, they'll just... pack up, move on, repeat the whole process in some other city, and civilization - _humanity_ \- dies a little more."

"Oh."

We lapsed into silence for a long moment, then I shook my head.

"In the end," I said, breaking the silence, "it's not how strong you are that matters; it's what you choose to _do_ with that strength that counts. I choose to make a difference, to make this city better."

* * *

"So, you've actually made contact with the crossbow vigilante?" Dr. Wayne asked.

"Apparently, she's decided to go by 'Huntress,'" I said as I sank down into a chair in the Batcave. Pulling the cowl off, I scrubbed my face and looked over to where he sat in front of the Ba- in front of the computer. "She's just a kid, Doc. Aisha's age, maybe."

Dr. Wayne had a troubled expression on his face. "And she's out there by herself?"

"She really wants to help," I said with a shrug. "I got her to at least agree to stop going out until we meet up again on Saturday. If I can at least get her to patrol with me and maybe switch her to some less lethal weaponry..." I trailed off.

"Good plan," Dr. Wayne said with a nod. "But why Saturday? Why not tomorrow?"

"Oh, I've, uh, got a... date tomorrow, actually," I... well, mumbled. "Nothing fancy," I hastened to add. "Just... dinner and a movie. I'm picking her up at six."

"Ah, that's good," Dr. Wayne said. After a moment, he frowned, "But you don't have a vehicle, Brian. Or a license. What will you be picking her up _with?_ "

"I, uh... was planning on cabbing it," I said.

He chuckled. "Nonsense!" he said. "I'll have a driver pick you up."

I shook my head. "I wouldn't want to put anyone out, sir."

"I insist."


	8. Shade 2-3

**Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising**  
 _Shade 2.3_

Over the past week, I'd gotten to know the Dennis twins a bit better. My first impressions had been... pretty spot on, actually. Deidre was vivacious, outgoing, and impulsive, while Delia was a lot more withdrawn and reserved. I suppose some might see that as a turn off, but honestly, with the late nights I pulled in costume, I doubted I could keep up with someone like Deidre.

I've jumped off rooftops with nothing but a tinkertech cape between me and a messy end. I've faced down armed gunmen with nothing but my power and some glorified boomerangs. I've fought one of the deadlier capes in Brockton Bay, one whose power completely countered my own.

Strangely, that didn't help calm my nerves as the driver Dr. Wayne had sent - a big guy named Diggle - drove me to the Dennis house. They lived in the southern part of the city, just outside of downtown. It wasn't _precisely_ E88 territory - they generally focused on the more profitable commercial districts in downtown proper - but it still made me nervous.

Yes. That's why I was nervous. Seriously, black guy taking a blonde girl out on a date is just _begging_ for trouble with the Empire.

I walked up to the door and doubled checked the address, but the door swung open before I could ring the doorbell. I briefly saw Deidre's grinning face before she shoved her sister through the door, closing it behind her and leaving her pinned between me and the door.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," I said back, not sure what else to say. I was sort of vaguely aware that I was considered attractive, but between Mom, Dad, and worrying about Aisha, I never really paid much attention to socializing with my peers.

We stood there for what seemed like an eternity before I heard a cough from behind me.

I looked over my shoulder. It was Diggle, clearly amused.

"Sir," he said, "I believe you're, ah, blocking her way."

"Oh, right," I muttered, stepping back and turning. As I offered her my arm, I took a moment to look her over. Her hair was tied back in a French braid, and she was wearing a red blouse and a pair of white shorts that were a little shorter than I suspect she was truly comfortable with. She probably borrowed them from her sister... unwillingly, I'd wager.

She had taken one step off the porch before stumbling to a halt.

"A limo?" she squeaked. "I, uh, suddenly feel underdressed."

"Don't," I said reassuringly. "It's a company car. My boss kind of insisted when he heard why I couldn't work tonight."

She turned to look at me, wide-eyed. "You... ditched your boss - a boss who can afford _this_ \- for me?"

I opened my mouth, then closed it. "Well..." I tried again, "...yeah?"

After that awkward start, the date went surprisingly well. Then again, maybe I was just being paranoid. We had dinner and watched a movie on the Boardwalk, and with the Enforcers, the Boardwalk was one of the safest places in Brockton Bay; it had better be, given how much of the city's limping economy depended on tourism. Afterwards, well, an almost certainly armored limo wasn't exactly a prime target for the Empire, particularly when the tinted windows kept them from seeing just what the ethnicity of the passengers were.

The only hiccup was some blonde pickpocket that tried to lift my wallet while we were heading to the theater, and Delia convinced me it wasn't worth the hassle to find and turn her over to an Enforcer. I suppose she was right. By and large, petty thieves and pickpockets were a symptom, not the cause, of the city's problems.

Of course, I had another, very different date the following night.

* * *

I silently landed on the rooftop. Rising from the crouched landing, I stepped forward.

"Huntress."

She spun in surprise. "Batman. You came."

"I said I would," I reminded her. "Here," I added.

"What's this?" she asked, accepting the wrapped package.

"Tranquilizer bolts," I said. "Tinkertech. I got in contact with a freelance supplier and got it rush-shipped." Well, technically, Dr. Wayne had. "The repeating crossbow will take a little longer." I tilted my head. "Hopefully, they'll keep you from going too far."

"Too far?" she echoed, her voice confused.

"You caused some serious damage," I said. "Some of the people you stopped may be crippled for life if they can't get parahuman healing, and the authorities frown on that sort of thing." I paused. "So far, no one's died, thankfully. This should tip the odds against that."

"Thank you," she said, unwrapping the tranq bolts reverently and tucking them away.

"So," I said, "why don't you take the lead?"

"Me?" she squeaked. Then coughed. "I mean, you want me to take the lead?"

"Yeah," I said. "Walk me through it; show me how you operate. If I have any ideas, I'll let you know."

"Um, okay," she said. "I usually patrol along the roofs, watching the street level for anything suspicious. Alleys, usually."

I nodded. "Good call," I said encouragingly. "Alleys are narrow, low traffic, limited ways in and out. Prime spots for muggings and rapes."

"Exactly!"

With that, we started.

Huntress obviously didn't have access to the resources Dr. Wayne had provided me with. Her entire kit was off the shelf, including her crossbow, a small pistol type, which made sense. Given her small stature, unless she had a Brute power, it was unlikely she'd be able to handle the pull of a full hunting crossbow easily. The repeater Dr. Wayne had ordered for her was supposed to have a self-cocking mechanism.

However, despite her youth and lack of resources, she had learned to leverage what she did have to what was, frankly, an impressive degree. Tonight, I had a much closer look at how she moved from roof to roof, phasing into her shadow form in mid-air to prolong her jump distance, and she was clearly well-practiced with it. I, on the other hand, had to make do with my grapple gun... which is not as easy as it sounds.

A couple of hours in, we were both crouched on a rooftop, watching as some skinheads unloaded a truck. The building was a small-time grocery store, locally owned rather than part of a franchise; odds were, the owner was turning a blind eye as part of his "protection" payment.

"Head count?"

"I count five," she said. "Two unloading the truck, the driver, the guard by the door, and the lookout at the end of the alley."

"Six, maybe more," I corrected. "Second floor window."

She shook her head, obviously confused. "I just see a light."

"Which means someone left it on," I pointed out. "Could be no one, could be another guard. Could be more. Could even be a cape."

"Right," she said, nodding. "Of course."

"Don't beat yourself up over it," I said. "It's easy to miss. Alley or building?"

"I'll take the building."

With that decided, I moved to the alley entrance where the lookout was standing. Flooding the alley with my darkness, I dropped down on top of him, driving my fist into his head and catching him as he went slack. I ignored the cursing and swearing I heard from the other skinheads. I had more immediate concerns. Lowering him to the ground, I moved quickly toward the cab of the truck. The driver had two options, and as the engine roared to life, it was clear which one he'd chosen.

I reached through the open window and grabbed his arm as he reached for the transmission, then punched him with the other, knocking him out. With him dealt with, I turned to survey the alleyway. I couldn't see Huntress, but the door guard was down. I took down the first loader, but the other was hidden behind the truck.

"Eat this, Batman!"

I turned and saw the other loader throwing something in my general direction. On instinct, I dropped to a crouch and swept my cape around myself protectively.

I was expecting some sort of explosion. Or maybe gas. Instead, I felt a chill run through me that had nothing to do with nerves. I stood up, and my cape cracked and crinkled unnaturally. I stepped toward the other loader, who was still looking around wildly in my darkness, but the ground was slick under my feet, and I barely caught myself on the back of the truck.

I shook my head clear and hurled a batarang at him instead before taking stock. That was ice beneath my feet, but it was quickly dissipating.

Seriously? A cold grenade? Was there some new bomb Tinker in town I hadn't heard of yet?

I pulled back my darkness and looked up.

"Shit."


	9. Shade 2-4

**Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising**  
 _Shade 2.4_

I fired my grapple gun just as Huntress lost her grip.

Retracting the grapple gun at maximum speed was powerful enough to yank itself from my hand if I wasn't careful - we'd tested that - so I made sure to keep a tight grip. Still, it felt like my arm was being pulled out of its socket as I soared up toward the roof. I reached out with my other arm and caught the falling figure around the waist before vaulting up onto the roof.

That particular move had taken a fair bit of practice, and even then, I stumbled, dropping the skinhead and turning to face Huntress.

"What the hell was that?"

"I, uh, I wanted to scare him," she stammered.

I looked down at the skinhead crumpled at my feet. He wasn't going anywhere. I looked back up at Huntress. "I'd say you succeeded."

She shrank back, and I found myself pinching the bridge of my nose through my cowl. "I'm guessing you saw it in a movie once? Thought it looked awesome, dangling someone over the edge of a roof, threatening to drop him if he doesn't comply?"

"Yeah," she admitted, digging a toe into the roof.

"Well, you'll need stronger arms for that to work, skinny," I said, reaching out and poking her in the arm. "Imagine if I hadn't been here, if this building had been just a couple of stories taller. You got lucky."

She nodded.

I held up a finger. "I think... we need to talk about this." She opened her mouth. "Later," I added. I glanced over the roof edge. "I have something I need to discuss with our dance partners first."

* * *

The truck was an arms shipment, which added up to an unpleasant conclusion. The grocery store was in Empire 88 territory, but it was on the border with the Merchants. More importantly, this piece of Merchant turf was just a tiny sliver of the city, stabbing out from their main territory like a tentacle to claim a section of the projects a block or two wide.

And on the other side of that sliver of Merchant turf was Azn Bad Boy territory. When I took down Dragonfly, the ABB had found themselves under siege. So far, they had able to hold their own against the Rising Sons and White Jade, despite the sudden and unexpected loss of their local second in command, and it looked like the other two Asian gangs were beginning to slack off.

It had allowed me to shift my attention to the Empire. Despite how many capes they had, they simply had too much territory to station capes everywhere. But if the Empire was sensing an opportunity to regain face by hitting the weakened ABB...

Most of the weapons were conventional, if a bit heavy: AK clones, grenades, even a couple of RPG-7s. In fact, the only tinkertech present appeared to be a case of a dozen - well, eleven now - cold grenades. I carefully tucked one away into my utility belt before calling in the BBPD.

"Why are we sticking around?"

"To make sure the job gets _done_ ," I replied. "The BBPD try their best - they're good people, mostly - but they're not equipped to handle some things, and I don't want to accidentally send them into a trap. Just imagine if we left, and someone like, say, Purity came by to check up on things before the police arrived."

Huntress visibly winced.

We stayed on that rooftop, watching and waiting until the police showed up and began processing the Empire thugs. For some reason, they had a PRT van with them too, which was a bit unusual. There was no love lost between the two law enforcement agencies, and since there weren't any capes, this should have been out of their jurisdiction.

"So," I said, breaking the silence, "how far are you going to keep pushing things?"

She jerked away. "I'm not- I don't mean to."

"You need to be careful, Huntress, not just for yourself, but for the people you bring in and the bystanders around you," I said quietly. "This isn't a game of cops and robbers. People get hurt or killed. Independent heroes like us? We walk a fine line, and if we cross that line, they'll throw the book at us."

"But _why?_ " she asked, a hint of anger in her voice. "They're _criminals_. Scum."

"Because everyone has to be held accountable," I said. "It's why we do this, after all. If we won't hold ourselves accountable, the PRT will. Or if they can't, we become just another villain gang, no different from the Empire or the Rising Sons."

She bristled at that. "Then what's the point?" she demanded. "If you're going to play by their rules anyway, why not just join the Protectorate and get paid for it?"

"Look at the guys we took down," I said, pointing down at where the Empire thugs were still being processed. "They're afraid of me. Not because of what I am or what I've done but because of what they _think_ I am, what they _think_ I might do. If I joined the Protectorate" - _which technically, they wouldn't let me_ \- "they'd restrict my actions, impose limits, push me into the light. But so long as I'm independent, in the shadows, I can make a difference in this city, because to them..." I paused and stepped forward, leaning on the edge of the roof. "To them, Batman _has_ no limits."

* * *

Whatever Tinker had made the cold grenades had been careless. I'd learned a lot from Mr. Dent, when he could spare the time. While he wasn't a detective, as district attorney, he was usually briefed thoroughly on any parahuman investigation, and one thing he'd made clear was that most villain Tinkers quickly learned to hide the source of their materials.

This one hadn't. The serial numbers on the components hadn't been removed, and it hadn't taken long for the Batcom- the computer in the Batcave to trace them to a shipment to a Medhall research lab on the outskirts of town, out past Captain's Hill.

Confronting a Tinker in his own lab was not something to be taken lightly, and I really wished I had some backup. Huntress wasn't viable: too young, too much of a loose cannon, and she needed time to get her head on straight.

So, it was with great trepidation that I approached the lab. From the outside, nothing looked out of place - there were even uniformed security guards: one at the front desk and one patrolling the grounds - which at least reassured me that at least there wasn't _likely_ to be any tinkertech surprises _outside_ the building. Small comfort.

I went in through the roof access and spent far too long inching through the building, but nothing happened. No traps, no killer robots, no automatic gun turrets, nothing.

That just made me even more wary when I finally reached the main lab, but I was committed by then.

As I quietly slipped in, I took stock of the lab. It was fairly messy, with tools and components scattered everywhere, with only two exceptions. One the far wall, there was a workbench with a lot of test tubes and beakers and such, with everything neatly organized and in pristine condition, and next to it, there was what looked like a giant coffin, except with various pipes and electronics leading into it.

Standing in front of the workbench with the chemistry set, his back to the door, was a man in a labcoat.

"Victor Fries?"

The man twitched in surprise, but continued focusing on the vials. "I _said_ I wasn't to be disturbed," he said acidly. "How many times must I tell Anders that these surprise visits are only impeding my research?"

After a few more minutes fiddling with the test tubes and putting a set into a centrifuge, he turned. "Now what is so important that-?"

He blinked and backed into the workbench, jostling some of the test tubs in their holders.

That was when it clicked.

"You have no idea why I'm here, do you?"

"Who _are_ you?"

"Batman," I answered. I pulled the cold grenade - disarmed, as far as we could determine - from my utility belt. "Tell me, Fries, is this your work?"

He frowned as he took it and looked at it. "Yes," he mused aloud. "It's a disposable cryogenic induction device."

A what?

"Care to elaborate, Doctor Fries?"

He scoffed. "First of all, I'm not a doctor," he said. He waved to the coffin - or coffin-like pod, I guess - and continued, "Research wasn't going well, so I put Nora into a form of suspended animation. It's not true suspended animation - I'm not confident I could bring someone out from that without harm - but it slows her vital functions. Seconds become days." He held up the cold grenade. "These were built to apply the same concept to trauma care in the field, to slow vital functions until the patient can receive proper treatment."

"I see."

He looked up at me, clearly confused. "What are you doing with it?"

"The Empire Eighty-Eight," I said. "They were transporting a dozen of them to a holding site near ABB territory."

"But that... doesn't make sense," he muttered. "I only _made_ two dozen of them, and I gave them to..." He trailed off.

"Who?" I asked, but he seemed lost in thought. " _Who_ , Fries?" I demanded, grabbing his shoulder. That seemed to snap him out of it.

"A-Anders," he said, blinking at me. "Max Anders. The CEO."

I let him go. "Thank you," I said. "You may have just saved a lot of lives."

He shook his head bitterly. "I only want to save one."

And that was when Hookwolf burst through the door.


	10. Shade 2-5

**Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising**  
 _Shade 2.5_

I did not start this night expecting to fight a giant bladed wolf thing.

Still, I had been focusing on the Empire for a while, and it was inevitable that I was going to run into one of their capes eventually, so I was still prepared. Or at least as prepared as I could be.

"Fries, get out of here!" I ordered, pushing Fries away from Hookwolf as I spread my darkness. I refrained from filling the room in order to let Fries see, instead restricting it to the area immediately around Hookwolf. The Empire cape wasn't fully transformed - arrogance, maybe? - so as he continued his now-blind charge, I smashed my fist into one of the few fleshy gaps in the metal with a left hook that bruised my knuckles even through my gauntlet. The Changer/Brute stumbled only momentarily before lashing out with a hooked claw.

I jumped back, stepping out of range of the wild swing, then unclipped a canister of mace from my utility belt, spraying his head with it.

No effect. I ducked under a reckless lunge and used his momentum to flip him over, sending him skidding and scraping across the floor before he dug his claws in to arrest his motion.

While he was busy with that, I affixed the rebreather in place and extracted another tinkertech gadget, this one a knockout gas grenade, and armed it, tossing it toward him.

Hookwolf ignored the gas as he walked in my general direction. The metal cabinet doors screeched as he dragged a claw through them. His hand dipped down, and he picked up a microscope, hurling it in my general direction.

It was nowhere near me; instead, it flew past and struck some other equipment, but I had other things to worry about.

"NORA!"

"Fries!" I snapped, but he didn't listen, instead rushing to his wife's capsule. I turned my attention back to Hookwolf, jerking my head back as he struck at my face, one of his hooks grazing my cheek.

I backpedaled. This wasn't working, but Hookwolf seemed focused on me. If I couldn't win this fight quickly, I _had_ to at least get Fries out of the line of fire, but he obviously wasn't going to leave the lab.

Well, if you can't bring Mohammed to the mountain...

I pulled my darkness back enough to let Hookwolf see me as I dove for the door, and he took the bait. Flooding the area with my darkness, I extracted another tinkertech gadget and hurled it at Hookwolf.

I hadn't used this one earlier because of his metallic biology. I couldn't predict what it would do. For all I knew, it would kill him, and that was a line wouldn't cross if I could avoid it.

The electrified batarang struck Hookwolf, sending a hundred thousand volts of electricity into his system, and I could smell his flesh singeing before he pulled it off and hurled it aside. He roared and charged in my general direction.

I dove out of the way. For all that Hookwolf was an experienced pit fighter, he still needed to see, and for a while, we danced around the hallway like a bull and a matador. Well, a blinded giant metal bull made of knives and a matador without a sword, anyway.

I tried a set of bolas next, but despite its impressive tensile strength, it didn't last long against Hookwolf's combination of strength and sharp edges. Still, it gave me enough time to catch my breath.

I was glad that, despite his cape name and the appearance of his favorite form, Hookwolf didn't _actually_ have wolf senses. That probably would have ended messily.

As it was, he was standing stock still. Listening.

He took a deliberate step in my direction, tentatively swiping a razor-edged claw through the air.

I looked around. The only thing I'd tried that seemed to work at all was my electric batarang, and I was rapidly running out of tricks.

Palming a cylindrical capsule, I underhanded it toward him. It rolled across the floor and bumped against his foot, and he immediately leaped over it, allowing it to spray its adhesive goo harmlessly on the ground behind him. Pity. It wasn't as good as containment foam - something that good was too bulky - but it might have worked if it had hit.

I hurled myself to the side, smashing a door open into another lab, but with his arms outstretched, he still managed to tag my arm, putting a shallow gash along it. Clutching my arm, I stumbled against the lab island, then circled around it.

Hookwolf followed, stopping in the doorway as he tried futilely to see through my darkness.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," he sang with a guttural growl. "Come on, Batman. I heard a lot about you, but what do I find? A coward who hides in the shadows."

He stepped forward, lashing out and taking the top off the faucet in the lab island's sink.

"Hookwolf!" I heard Fries call out from the hallway. "Are you here for Batman or for me?"

Hookwolf turned and stepped back out into the hallway. "Kaiser sent me to check up on you," he snarled. "See if you needed help... or if you were turning on us."

"That's all I needed to hear," Fries said coldly. A blue-white beam lanced out and struck the Empire cape, and within seconds, he was covered in ice.

I pulled my darkness mostly in and stepped out of the lab, giving Hookwolf as wide a berth as I could. "Fries?"

"Batman," he said. He held up the obviously cobbled-together tinkertech gun in his hands. "I put this together from the cryogenic inducer you brought back."

"Your wife," I said. "Is she...?"

"Deep stasis," he answered. "Too deep. I... don't know if I can bring her out of it without brain damage."

 _Damn it._

I heard something cracking and turned. The ice around Hookwolf was beginning to break apart. I released my darkness again.

"Go, Fries!" I ordered. "Get out of here!"

This time, he went.


	11. Interlude 2A - Sophia

**Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising**  
 _Interlude 2A - Sophia_

In the end, she had run.

For that, she never quite forgave herself. She _couldn't_. Despite... everything, every possible motivation, despite _promising_ herself she'd kill the fucking bastard the next time he-

But when the time came, she had chosen to run. She had retreated to her room - that flimsy little fortress - with her proverbial tail between her legs. She had curled up on her bed like a coward, knowing as he heard his laughter through the thin walls of the house that he _let_ her go, knowing - worse yet - that she was so insignificant to him that, despite tearing her to shreds with just a few words, he had probably forgotten about her the moment she was out of sight. That was when she realized Steven was right. She _was_ worthless.

She deserved it. If she didn't care enough to stand up for herself, for something so important to her and so insignificant to him... why would anyone else?

She cried herself to sleep that night.

* * *

Batman.

The city was ablaze with speculation, but no one had much on him: not the news, not the police, not even the verified PRT agents or the so-called "guys in the know" on PHO. No one even knew what he looked like. It was obvious, however, that Batman was making a difference. He wasn't like the Protectorate or the Wards; he didn't waste time supporting the status quo. He went out and busted heads. He preyed on the non-parahuman gang members, and stripped of the protection of their capes, they were now running scared.

Batman was strong. He _mattered_.

When she woke up with powers, she didn't know what to do with them. The Wards... no. She had no interest in getting more people telling her what to do, giving more people power over her.

But maybe... maybe she could at least do something that mattered.

* * *

She had a good power to do what Batman did. She could phase in, engage the non-parahumans, then phase out and disengage if any capes showed up. But even a non-parahuman gangbanger was a lot bigger and stronger than her. She needed to level the playing field somehow.

She'd heard good things about Grant's Gym. He even taught a few classes for free. It was a good first step.

One of the first things she learned from Mr. Grant - or, more accurately, from Brian - was that once someone stronger than her got a firm grip on her, she'd already lost. She needed something else. A weapon, something with which she could reach out and touch someone.

The sporting goods store wasn't far from Grant's Gym, and it had quite the selection of weapons. Her gaze swept quickly across the rifles and shotguns lining the back wall before she dismissed them. No way someone like her could get one, even _if_ she could afford it, and they all looked positively gigantic anyway. The bows...

"Have you ever done any archery before?"

Sophia started in surprise. An Asian woman in a wheelchair was looking at her curiously.

"I, um, I was just looking," she said, hurriedly putting the bow she had been examining back on the shelf.

"Well, for your first bow, you'll want to start with something that has a lighter pull," the woman said, gesturing toward the smaller bows. "It takes a great deal of practice to use a bow properly, however, so keep that in mind."

Sophia tried to hide her disappointment at that, but she obviously wasn't very successful.

"You might try a crossbow," the woman suggested. "They're easier to learn."

Sophia's gaze swept over to the crossbows, gravitating to a pistol crossbow. It was about the right price; she'd been saving up for a while. She picked it up. It felt... _right_ in her hands. She doubted it had much power, but maybe if she used her power on the bolt...

She smiled and looked over at the woman. "Thanks for the advice, Ms., uh..."

"Nguyen," the woman answered. "Paula Nguyen."

* * *

She still hadn't come up with a name yet when she went out, but she was ready. She hoped.

She ran across the rooftops. It had taken surprisingly little practice to use her power to ghost along between rooftops. It was her third night out, and the adrenaline rush alone felt awesome.

Then she heard a scream. Sophia steeled her self and charged toward the scream.

It was a couple, backed against the wall of the alleyway, trapped between three gangbangers. The gangbangers were wearing red and white, the colors of the Rising Sons. One of them was leaning against the wall himself, making suggestive motions toward the woman.

She fired. The smoky crossbow bolt rematerialized halfway in the lecherous gangbanger's shoulder, halfway in the wall, and at his cry of pain, she leapted down into the alley.

Sophia froze in indecision as a tire iron swung toward her before flashing into her shadow state. The improved weapon passed harmlessly through her, and the gangbanger stepped back, fear written on his face.

She smiled.

 _He's afraid of me._

* * *

It wasn't just the adrenaline that felt good. There was just something liberating about running across rooftops in costume. There came with it a feeling of... not invincibility, per se, but more a sense that, whatever happened, she was as ready for it as she ever could be.

As she swooped down and began taking out skinheads, she reveled in that feeling. Her heart pounded as she turned to the last Empire thug, her crossbow and his handgun racing to see which would level out first.

Only for a third party to pull a surprise win.

Sophia's breath caught in her throat. _It's_ him! _And I still don't have a name yet!_

* * *

 _Why_ am _I doing this?_ she asked herself as she returned home. Batman's question had blindsided her. There were two people in the world, those who mattered and those who didn't. The strong and the weak. And she was strong. She _had_ to be. She couldn't be weak again. She _promised_ herself that she wouldn't be.

Because if she ever let herself be weak again, that meant Steven won, and she _wouldn't_ let that happen.

But... maybe she'd been looking at it wrong.

 _Power... and purpose, huh?_ she mused. It was something to think about.

* * *

Sophia ducked and weaved, lashing out with another aggressive combo. It was just the two of them there tonight, since she'd promised Batman she wouldn't go out until they met again the following night. She knew Mr. Grant was going easy on her; just seeing him sparring with Brian was proof enough of that. He may be old, but with that age came a level of experience and skill she couldn't help but respect.

Once he'd again demolished her defenses, she slumped against the ropes around the ring and looked at him. "Mister Grant?"

"Yeah?"

"Why do you do this?" she asked. "I mean, the whole... gym thing. I mean, you're strong, a good fighter. You could make a lot of money, with the gangs or fighting pro."

He paused, letting his towel hang from his neck. "I do this because it's what I love," he said simply. "I used to fight pro, long ago, but... my time's passed. But you? You've got a fire in you, kid, and I don't want to see it cut short."

"But what's the point?" she asked. "What's the purpose?"

Mr. Grant took a swig from his water bottle and leaned against the corner post. "I guess... it's to help the next generation," he said finally. "Better tomorrow and all that rot."

"Huh?"

"Every kid like you who walks in that door is a piece of this city's future. I guess I'm just doing my part to make it better."

There it was again. Power and purpose... a purpose in giving the city a better future.

* * *

Sophia fumed.

 _Who the hell does he think he is?_ she snarled silently. Something about the night she'd spent patrolling with Batman had been nagging at her as they parted ways, but she was already home before she figured it out.

It was when he'd called her "skinny." Just like Brian called her "shorty." Coupled with the way he moved, the way he fought - they'd sparred so many times over the past few months - and his height and build...

Brian was the goddamn Batman. Well, maybe. She wasn't sure, but if he _was_... suddenly, the lecture took on a whole new context that just pissed her off. She'd thought Batman was older, a man who actually knew what the fuck he was talking about, not a guy barely a few years older than her!

"Hey, Sophia!" That was her brother, hollering from the living room.

She opened her bedroom door and stuck her head out. " _What_ , Terry?!" she snapped.

"Just thought you'd like to know, the PRT's about to take down Batman. I know you're a big fan."

 _Take down... Batman?_ she wondered. _Why?_

With a sigh, she stepped out and joined him in front of the living room TV, where Armsmaster was speaking.

"-assure you, Ms. Vale, we only wish to bring Batman in to answer a few questions regarding some brutal crossbow attacks over the past few weeks-"

Sophia's eyes widened. Batman didn't use a crossbow. _She_ did.

 _"If we won't hold ourselves accountable, the PRT will. Or if they can't, we become just another villain gang, no different from the Empire or the Rising Sons."_

That's what Batman had said earlier tonight. Not two minutes ago, she'd dismissed it. He clearly already had some connection to the PRT, but now...

 _"If I joined the Protectorate, they'd restrict my actions, impose limits, push me into the light. But so long as I'm independent, in the shadows, I can make a difference in this city, because to them... to them, Batman_ has _no limits."_

Batman was making a difference. But if they caught him, if they _stopped_ him...

 _And it'd be my fault._

She had to fix this.


	12. Interlude 2B - Hannah

**Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising**  
 _Interlude 2B - Hannah_

Hannah had the night shift. Again.

She didn't mind. She volunteered for it as often as regulation allowed. It wasn't like she needed sleep, after all, not in the nearly quarter century since she triggered, anyway. It wasn't exactly something she advertised, but she didn't see any reason not to take advantage of it.

So when the alarm sounded, she was already in costume and was the first hero to reach the helipad on the PHQ's rooftop.

"What is it?" she asked as she climbed into the helicopter.

"Cape fight," the PRT pilot replied as they took off. "Batman and Hookwolf are duking it out at some research facility out past Captain's Hill. First responders - a couple of cops from the city PD - called it in."

"Backup?"

"Response squad is already en route, with Aegis riding along," the pilot answered. "Armsmaster's taking his bike."

She nodded. Carlos - Aegis - was on call tonight, and while he could fly, there was no sense in making him go that far under his own power. And she certainly wasn't surprised Colin had still been on-site at this hour, despite technically being off-duty tonight. He had probably stayed up tinkering again.

That still left her pondering the cause of the alarm. Out past Captain's Hill was the very outskirts of Brockton Bay, and none of the gangs really had any presence there, which made the presence of either Batman _or_ Hookwolf there a bit of a anomaly. Both only deepened the mystery. Something was definitely up.

The only question was... what?

* * *

When the chopper approached the research facility, Hannah took the opportunity to survey the situation. Two BBPD squad cars, an unmarked car with its lights flashing, two heavy PRT trucks with their mounted containment foam cannons and net launchers, and several PRT vans. There were a few BBPD officers helping secure the perimeter, but the bulk of the personnel on site were PRT.

 _Good,_ she thought. The BBPD certainly lacked the firepower to handle a cape like Hookwolf, and Batman was still too much of a question mark.

She saw Armsmaster pull up on his tinkertech motorcycle just as the chopper landed. She climbed out and fell in step beside him. The PRT officers manning the cordon waved them through to the facility's front entrance, and Aegis turned as they approached, waving them in.

"Security cameras?" Armsmaster asked.

"Front security desk," Aegis answered, "but they're not much help."

Hannah took a peek and nodded in agreement. Most of the security monitors showed nothing but a roiling, inky black mist.

"Definitely either a Shaker or a Tinker," Armsmaster murmured. "We have confirmation that it _is_ Batman and Hookwolf?"

Aegis nodded. "Building security heard Hookwolf breaking in through the rear fire exit and called in the BBPD, who confirmed the ID from camera footage." He pushed a button, rewinding the footage to show Hookwolf bursting through the aforementioned fire exit. "The place is also supposed to have an automated alarm to alert the BBPD of forced entry; they're looking into why it didn't."

Armsmaster waved it off. "And Batman?"

"Here." Aegis rewound the footage further. "It matches several of the descriptions we have for Batman. And the costume's theme fits, so there's that." Hannah nodded. There were, to put it mildly, _discrepancies_ in the descriptions they'd received from the various perps they'd questioned when it came to the subject of Batman's appearance. They were varied enough to indicate the possibility of a Changer power.

Armsmaster tapped the controls for the bank of monitors, studying them intently as he fast forwarded them to the present time. "Third floor, near the main lab, and they're moving south."

Hannah nodded. She'd long ago given up questioning Colin when he did something like this; the man seemed to have a tinkertech gadget for _everything_.

"Aegis," he continued, "head out, link up with the PRT, and cover the outside." He pointed down the south corridor. "Miss Militia, there's a stairwell at the far end of this corridor. Try to head them off. I'll go up here and try to drive them to you; with luck, my helmet's sensors can penetrate this fog. And remember, Batman may be a hero, but we have some questions for him, so we want to bring them _both_ in if we can."

Hannah's power flashed, taking the form of a Mossberg 500 Cruiser, the pistol-gripped pump-action shotgun falling into her hands with a comforting familiarity as she headed out. When she reached the stairs, she took them two at a time and emerged on the third floor to a deserted hallway. To her left, the hallway dead ended in a T-junction against the windowed outer wall. To her right, no more than thirty feet away, she could see the edges of the black mist, and it was clearly moving towards her.

That, she realized, must be how Armsmaster had guessed where they were and which way they were moving, by tracking the mist as a whole.

"Miss Militia to Armsmaster," she murmured through her communicator as she backed away from the mist into the T-junction, visually checking down both hallways. "I'm in position."

No response.

She racked the pump on the shotgun. It wasn't strictly necessary - as a manifestation of her power, the weapon would fire regardless - but it served as a good intimidation tactic. Now, if only she could figure out where they were.

As if on cue, the black fog began to recede, and her earpiece blared to life. "-peat, Hookwolf is making a break for it!"

Hannah brought the shotgun up, bracing the folding stock against her shoulder, and fired as Hookwolf burst from the fog. Once, twice, three times, beanbag rounds battered the E88 Changer, knocking him off balance. She needed something bigger. Green light flared as the shotgun morphed into a Milkor MGL, and she opened fire again. The first two 40mm sponge grenades struck Hookwolf in the chest, and as he twisted to shield himself, the third struck him in the shoulder.

He kept coming.

She hurled herself to her left down the corrider, and there was a brief flash as she altered the ammunition before firing again. The 40mm HE grenade flew past Hookwolf's left ear as he wheeled away from her, then detonated some distance down the corridor. The Changer flinched and instinctively leaped away from the explosion, smashing through the window.

"Aegis-!"

"Got him!" Aegis replied over the comm. She saw him dart down past the windows. Picking herself up, Hannah moved to the window and saw Hookwolf slashing at Aegis. She didn't even flinch as a claw sliced open the Ward's arm; she'd seen worse, done to kids younger than him who didn't have his recuperative abilities. Her power flashed into a few different shapes as she considered the tactical situation... but Aegis was too close. Anything she tried, if it hit Aegis, would incapacitate him more than it would Hookwolf.

A flicker of darkness was her only warning before Batman vaulted out the window, gliding down on his cape and planting both feet on Hookwolf's head. He rolled as he landed and came up, facing Hookwolf, who lunged forward. Aegis staggered for a moment, shook his head... and flew straight up.

"Now!" Aegis called.

On his signal, containment foam covered the area, sealing Hookwolf in place. Batman, however, slipped out. At Aegis's command to the PRT, Batman flung his hand out toward the building; something Hannah couldn't see clearly in the glare of the floodlights darted out, and he flew clear of the foam, crashing through a window one floor below.

Hannah turned and bolted for the stairs... only to find herself engulfed in darkness.

* * *

"Definitely a Shaker, probably going to tack on a Stranger subrating, given the stealth aspect," Armsmaster said. "It doesn't just block light. It also blocks radio and infrared, at minimum, and it muffles sound."

"Hookwolf was almost fully transformed when I saw him," Hannah added. "I didn't see any weapons on Batman, and he jump kicked him outside."

"If he's willing to fight Hookwolf in close quarters, it's probably safe to say he deserves a Brute rating too," Armsmaster said. "Anything else?"

"Mover," Aegis said. "He basically flew clear of the containment foam."

Hannah shook her head. "I don't think that was a power. He shot something at the wall from his hand first."

"A grapple gun, maybe?" Armsmaster mused. "Tinker, then. Could be all his 'powers' are from tinkertech."

"Maybe," Hannah agreed. She turned to look back at the research facility. "I don't see how this is helping us right now, though."

"Know your enemy," Armsmaster said, before turning as another van pulled up. Channel Four News. He squared his shoulders and headed off to intercept the press crew.

Hannah wasn't sure Batman was an enemy. He could have easily ambushed her as she made her way through the black fog to regroup with the others - she had been completely blind and relying solely on her perfect memory just to navigate - but he hadn't. The fact that, so far as they knew, the facility's only researcher, a Victor Fries, was still inside only complicated matters.

"-assure you, Ms. Vale, we only wish to bring Batman in to answer a few questions regarding some brutal crossbow attacks over the past few weeks-"

"Do you hear that?" Aegis asked.

Hannah tilted her head and listened, then shook her head. "Hear what?"

"I'm not sure," he said. "A kind of... rustling noise? Flapping, maybe? It's getting louder."

She listened again and nodded. "I hear it, but what-?"

Her eyes widened as bats swarmed in from all directions, all heading toward the research facility. The air was thick with them as they battered themselves against the walls and windows. Hannah couldn't even see what was happening.

A few minutes later, the swarm shrank and dispersed, and the darkness that had concealed most of the building's interior was gone.

"So," Aegis deadpanned. "I guess we can add Master to the list."

And behind her, Hannah could hear another voice.

" _Tell_ me you got that!"

* * *

Nor did the rest of the night pass uneventfully. As the designated on-duty member of the Protectorate, it was Hannah's job to oversee Hookwolf's transfer to the secure holding facility under the PRT building, so she ended up riding with Aegis on the way back.

Her power flashed as the shadowy figure appeared in front of her, just outside the PRT building.

"Miss Militia."

Initial appearances aside, this definitely was _not_ Batman.

The PRT officers had their weapons up, trained on the young cape, and Hannah could sense Aegis tensing up next to her. That covered, she lowered her own weapon.

"And who might you be?"

"I'm Huntress," the girl said hesitantly. "I... saw on the news. You're after Batman because of the crossbow attacks. But it wasn't him."

Hannah had an idea where this was going. It wouldn't be the first time a young new trigger was inspired by an existing hero and ended up taking it too far. Most, tragically, never realized it until it was too late, until _after_ they'd done things that left them no other path but villainy. She decided to play along.

"And how would you know, Huntress?"

"Because it was me," Huntress said. "I'm here to turn myself in."


	13. Interlude 2C - Max

**Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising**  
 _Interlude 2C - Max_

As president and CEO of Medhall Corporation, Max Anders was a busy man - in fact, he was much busier than even those titles implied - but he had long since learned to prioritize. Proper time management was essential for a man in his position, even leaving out his double life as Kaiser.

One of his priorities was Fries. It was a decidedly appropriate name, given what the freshly triggered Tinker's specialty seemed to be. That priority was why he had the alarm built into the research facility rerouted from the BBPD to his office.

The man was so obsessed with saving his wife, it had been simple enough to convince him to make some ice grenades as thanks for the funding and lab space. The problem, however, was the very recent _loss_ of half of those very same grenades. And now, the alarm at Fries's lab had gone off.

This did not bode well.

He pulled a phone out of his inside jacket pocket. It was a burner, and it would be inconvenient if it were ever found in Max Anders's possession, but it was necessary. He dialed from memory; speed-dials were not to be trusted, in case the phone itself wound up in the hands of others.

"Brad," he said, "I need you to check something out for me."

* * *

Max watched the news cast with a dispassionate expression that belied the emotions roiling around inside him. It seemed his fears had been warranted; still, he would have expected Hookwolf to be able to handle a lone independent hero. He mentally revised up Batman's threat level; anyone who could hold off Hookwolf long enough for the PRT to arrive was a formidable threat.

Still, Batman would have to wait a little longer. Max had his priorities, and this incident, however informative, was still a setback. He'd have to arrange for one of his employees to take the fall for "stealing" the ice grenades, and Hookwolf was too valuable to allow to rot in prison. He had a breakout specialist on call for just such an occasion, of course, but of greater concern was the fact that this brought the pit fighter to his second strike. It was unlikely Hookwolf would learn the wisdom he'd need to avoid getting caught a third time, which meant Max would have to see about getting a Birdcage specialist and, in case that failed, start planning contingencies for the metalmorph's possibly permanent removal from the Empire's roster. The likely loss of Fries himself was unfortunate, but Fries's Tinker power had been an unexpected boon to begin with.

He pulled out his burner phone again. Better to make sure his tracks were covered first.

* * *

Max scribbled his signature on the last bit of paperwork, then sat back and relaxed. He turned his chair to face the window and greet the morning sun. Another all-nighter at the office. And for once, it was true.

He frowned as his mind went off on a tangent. Kayden had been growing more contrary ever since Aster had been born. It was clear she doted on the child and was unsatisfied with the current state of affairs. It was... concerning. Perhaps he should consider using one of his contacts with the BBPD to "retroactively file" the necessary records to... ensure his control over his genetic legacy.

That it would tighten the leash on Kayden would be a lovely bonus.

The moment of rumination over, he shook his head and got up, whistling a jaunty tune and grabbing his coat on the way out. The offices on this level were largely deserted; even James had gone home hours ago, and it was still a little early for anyone to be back yet.

He gave a nod of acknowledgement to the security guard at the desk near the elevator, whose phone started ringing just before the elevator doors closed behind him. He shrugged it off; whatever it was, he had faith in his security force. Medhall may only have mundane security, but it was very _good_ mundane security. Max could have seeded some parahumans in, but frankly, there was too much risk for too little reward. The Empire needed their capes in the field, and if something happened, he'd do what any other fine, upstanding citizen would do: call the police.

Besides, Max had his own power, James had an office not far from his, and when he was out of the office, he was usually with the twins.

Seconds after the elevator doors opened on the ground floor, he began to regret that decision as a chilling blast nipped past his shoulder into the elevator, freezing it solid. Max cried out and clutched his ear.

"Mister Anders," Fries said coldly, lowering the freezing pistol. "So good of you to join us. I have a few questions for you."


	14. Shade 2-6

**Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising**  
 _Shade 2.6_

It had been a long night, but even after evading the PRT, I still wasn't done. Medhall was somehow linked to the Empire, and I had to track down those other cold grenades. And I had to do it _fast_ ; someone with the resources of a company the size of Medhall could cover their tracks very quickly and very thoroughly.

Which was why I was already in Medhall Tower, up near the executive suite, when the silent alarm went off. When the computers went lockdown, I thought I'd messed up with the cryptographic sequencer, but no, the data was downloading. The floor security guard had raced to the elevator instead of the office I had coopted, pounding on the elevator doors that had closed less than a minute ago.

I quickly moved up and knocked him out, then moved to check his security desk. The CCTV monitors were top-quality but still black and white and awfully small to fit into the desk. Except for one, all the camera views were on this floor only, with the exception being the elevator camera.

I watched as Anders rode the elevator down, but as the door opened, a pale blast of something lanced out, nearly taking the CEO's ear off... and freezing the back wall of the elevator.

"Oh, Fries..."

* * *

Given how high up I was, getting to the ground floor would be a task in and of itself. The stairs would take too long - if Fries blamed Anders, I doubted it would be long before he killed him - and the elevators were frozen.

So I went up instead.

Emerging through the roof access, I ran for the edge and jumped, snapping my cape out. As always, it went rigid, catching the air as I glided in a spiral around the building toward the street below, letting my darkness trail behind me to hide me from the morning sun.

Looping around, I smashed through a second-floor window - I've been doing that a lot tonight - at the rear of the building with a muffled crash, rolling to a halt in an office, body tense, listening for any reaction.

"D-don't move!"

I looked over. Medhall security, holding a Glock on me.

I slowly rose from my crouch, turning to face him fully. "You've got guts, kid," I said, feeling fairly ridiculous; he was probably ten years older than me, "but a Tinker with a grudge is holding your boss hostage downstairs."

He paused, then lowered the gun. "Right," he said. "You're, uh, you're that bat cape, aren't you?"

"Batman," I confirmed as I moved toward the stairs. "Stay here. You're not equipped to face a cape." That said, I headed down to the first floor.

"Victor!" I said as I stepped out into the lobby, cloaked in my darkness. I could see seven hostages, including Anders. A security guard had his hand - and the gun held in it - frozen to the wall.

"Do not interfere, Batman," Fries said, keeping the cold gun leveled at Anders. "Mister Anders was just about to tell me where I can find Kaiser. _And_ the remaining cryogenic inducers."

"This isn't the way, Victor," I said, stepping forward and shedding enough of my darkness to show my hands empty. "Put the cold gun down. We can talk to the police and the PRT. With your testimony, we can put him away, clean up Medhall."

"I don't _want_ Anders," Fries retorted. "I want _Kaiser_." I stopped walking. "Yes, Anders duped me into making weapons for the Empire, but it's _Kaiser_ who sent Hookwolf, who killed my wife."

"Victor," I said, "you told me yourself she's in deep stasis. She's not dead. There's still hope."

"Freeze!"

Fries turned, snapped the cold gun around, and fired. _God damn it._ It was that idiot security guard from the second floor. The cold beam froze him almost completely, only leaving his head exposed.

"That's _Mister_ Freeze to you," Fries said, turning his attention back to me. "Was that the plan, Batman? Distract me while he gets the drop on me? Because _that_ was a _mistake_."

"I swear, Victor, I didn't-"

He didn't let me finish. I dropped into a crouch, holding my cape around me, but what had worked against the "one and done" of a cold grenade that wasn't intended as a weapon wasn't enough for a continuous beam that clearly _was_ intended as a weapon. I could feel the cold leeching through my cape, so I lurched up and dove behind a wall.

"Damn it, Fries," I muttered as I released my darkness. I was out of suitable combat gadgets, thanks to my fight with Hookwolf. I was going to have to do this the old-fashioned way...

...which was going to be difficult, seeing as how there was now a wall of ice between us, sealing me out of the lobby. I pulled a small cutting torch out of my utility belt but paused before trying to melt the ice.

There was nothing stopping him from refreezing it as I melted it. And where did the moisture come from anyway? Tinkers were bullshit.

Instead, I worked my way around, consulting the data I had on the building and looking for an alternate entry point. Soon, I was up on the third floor. The lobby was actually a three-level atrium, and a room that big needed lots of ventilation.

It didn't take long to find and pry open a maintenance hatch. It took a fair bit longer to shimmy into the ventilation shaft; they weren't designed to fit people my size.

I peered through the ventilation grate. The room was still cloaked in my darkness, but I had to move quick. After loosening the bolts, I pulled my darkness in slightly and kicked the ventilation grate loose, sending flying overhead to crash on the floor noisily. Fries reacted predictably, sending a freezing blast in that direction even as I dropped down, landing on the front information desk with my knees bent so I didn't break my legs.

He spun, whipping his head back and forth, trying in vain to see through the darkness. I rushed him, striking the cold gun from his hands.

"I'm sorry, Victor," I murmured as I drew my darkness back in. "It didn't have to be this way."

* * *

I zip-tied Fries and led him out the front doors. By now, the PRT was out in force, Armsmaster with them. I paused.

"Armsmaster."

"Batman."

"Are we going to have a problem here?"

"No," he answered. "The... situation we wished to discuss with you has been... resolved."

I wondered what he meant by that. I didn't ask. Instead, I just nodded and said, "Good."

I turned Fries over to a pair of PRT officers. He didn't resist. A team in hazmat suits moved into the building, presumably to secure the tinkertech.

"His wife," I said, "she was in stasis at the research facility..."

"I'll make sure she gets the best of care," Armsmaster assured me with a curt nod.

"You may also find this interesting," I added, handing him a flash drive. It was the data I'd managed to download from Medhall's computers before I had to leave. I didn't get enough to pin anything on anyone specifically, but it was enough to raise suspicions.

And it gave the Protectorate a reason for me to have been there. It would have been nice to have gotten something to nail Medhall to the wall, but the listening devices I planted should help with that in the long run.


	15. Interlude 2D - Various

**Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising**  
 _Interlude 2D - Emily, Dean, Sarah, James, Dragon, Geoff, Delia_

"We're talking, minimum, multiple counts of assault with an unregistered tinkertech device and unlawful detainment," Emily Piggot said flatly, "and given the hypothermia suffered by several of his victims, there's plenty enough evidence to give attempted homicide a half-decent chance to stick."

"It was a crime of passion," Assault pointed out. "The PRT's offered second chances to people who've done worse."

Emily scowled at the unsubtle reminder. She _hated_ those deals, and technically, it was her decision, but they were routine in this line of work, and she was realistic enough to know Fries would be getting the option. At least by playing up her opposition to it, she could bank credit for concessions elsewhere. "So we give him community service and stuff him in a lab to work it off."

"There is another option," Armsmaster pointed out. "We could send him to Washington."

Emily narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "DC?" she hazarded. At his curt nod, she moved to the next question, "Why?" Not that it should have mattered. If Fries did take such a deal, he'd be relocated to another city anyway.

"You know people have been making noises about reforming villains more openly lately."

Emily nodded. She was familiar with the argument. Most capes were mentally damaged in some way, and they often lashed out instinctively the moment they received their powers. By presenting the Protectorate and Wards as shining beacons of heroism and virtue - so the argument went - the PRT was shooting itself in the foot by making new triggers feel like they weren't good enough to be heroes, indirectly driving them into villainy.

She disagreed with that thinking. The _people_ had to trust the PRT, to believe that the government-sanctioned heroes were just that: _heroes_. To openly recruit "reformed villains" would only result in a loss of public trust, and as far as she was concerned, that public trust - and the federal mandate that came with it - was the only thing keeping the Protectorate from being just another cape gang.

"I've been in contact with Steel," Armsmaster continued. "He's received authorization from the Chief Director to run a pilot program with his team in DC and asked me to keep an eye out for good candidates to start with. Given his sympathetic history and the limited nature of his crimes, Fries would be ideal."

Emily ground her teeth. It all sounded reasonable... but what was Armsmaster playing at here? It seemed... out of character for him to be pushing it this much. Was he working an angle she couldn't see? Or was he just hoping to earn a favor from the DC Tinker?

"Fine," she said. "I'll call the DA, let him know the PRT's willing to play ball if he wants to put either offer on the table."

At least she could take comfort in that, when the experiment inevitably blew up, it wasn't going to be on her watch.

"Next order of business," she said, "Armsmaster, how's the investigation into the alleged Medhall/Empire connection going?"

"The files Batman provided appear to be genuine, and they are suggestive but inconclusive. I'll be interviewing Anders tomorrow."

* * *

Dean Stansfield - Gallant - shifted, a little uncomfortable in his armor. The armor had cost him a pretty penny to begin with, but Armsmaster had recently upgraded it - a little quid pro quo in exchange for letting the Tinker study his power for some new gadget he wanted to make - and he was still getting used to it.

Armsmaster had called him in to observe the interro- _interview_ at the last minute. He had had other plans for the evening, but he hadn't objected. It wasn't often that the Protectorate's regional head called for a specific Ward's assistance, and besides, he knew how useful his emotion senses were for picking out lies.

On the other side of the one-way mirror, Armsmaster sat across from Max Anders - CEO of Medhall - and an attorney from the company's legal department.

"I apologize for intercepting you on your way home, Mister Anders," Armsmaster began, "but we have a few more questions regarding the attack on you the other day."

"Of course, Armsmaster," Anders said, a cheer in his voice that didn't match the wariness Dean was sensing. Still, that didn't mean anything. "My company and I will be happy to put this nonsense behind us."

"I'm glad we can count on your cooperation, Mister Anders," Armsmaster said, "and I do hope this isn't too much of an inconvenience. If there's anyone you need to call...?"

Anders exchanged looks with the attorney, a small spike of puzzlement emerging before realization struck.

"Ah, no," Anders said. "Unless it takes more than a couple of hours, anyway. My wife's taken the kids to Arcadia for the basketball game today, won't be home until late, and I'd rather not bother her."

Dean felt a spike of irritation from Anders that mirrored his own. He'd been planning on attending the game himself when the call came in. Shaking it off, he focused back on the interview.

"Before we get started," Armsmaster said, "how's your ear? It looked quite serious. If you'd like, I can put in a request, pull a few strings, see if we can pry loose a parahuman healer."

Worry radiated from Anders as he shook his head, a hand reaching subconsciously to the gauze that was taped to his ear, marring his "corporate executive" look. "Thank you, Armsmaster, but that won't be necessary. It looks worse than it is."

 _He's hiding something._

* * *

She stared at the TVs arrayed in the electronics store window. They were all tuned to some cable news channel, airing a speech by Max Anders. It was strange, in a way. Somewhere along the line, cape fights had become old hat; they had their own dedicated news ticker, but unless deaths or property damage were way up, they no longer warranted taking time out from other news.

And a corporate scandal - like, say, a suspected link between a major pharmaceutical company and the Empire 88 - was _always_ big news.

Anders was clearly smart and charismatic, and his impassioned speech was beautifully written and delivered. She'd seen that before, once, before she slipped away from that confrontation between the Empire and the Rising Sons.

The inevitable conclusion came to her before she could suppress her power.

 _Max Anders is Kaiser._

 _Fuck me._

* * *

"Director?"

James Tagg looked up from the performance reviews he was evaluating. There were only a handful of people who could enter his office unannounced, fewer still who didn't get that privilege by virtue of outranking him.

"We have another new prospect?" he asked.

Agent Spencer nodded. "Two. For debrief, if nothing else."

In another organization, she would have dropped off a dossier and been on her way, but _here_ , there were some things too sensitive to commit to paper, let alone electronic records, no matter how secure they were. One required Top Secret clearance just to set foot in the building or learn Checkmate's official mandate, and a princely sum maintained the tinkertech device that would remove any sensitive information from the minds of those who worked here - including James himself - when they retired or were transferred. Even then, data was compartmentalized to the point that only a very select few were aware of their actual operational parameters.

Thinkers, Tinkers, and Movers were a security nightmare in this day and age, and the wrong file simply being in the wrong place could tell the right kind of Thinker _everything_. While no system was perfect, James was willing to bet that this was as close as it got.

In this case, it wasn't the files themselves, but whose specific files were of interest that they were concerned about, the ones that didn't _quite_ fit the parameters of Checkmate's official mandate, which was confidential enough already. After all, they had whole rooms full of data collected on the world's parahumans - hero, villain, and rogue alike - and officially, behind Code Word and Top Secret restricted access, Checkmate served as a central secure firehouse through which the predictions and analyses from the PRT's Thinker think tanks were cross-referenced and collated into actionable intel (and reviewed for possible subversion attempts). And that was all anyone without Need to Know knew. While it would be... _inconvenient_ , to say the least, if the data they had gathered wound up in the wrong hands, that wasn't as damaging to operational security as exposing Checkmate's true function.

"Dragonfly, part of the Azn Bad Boys' local leadership in Brockton Bay," Spencer continued. "She was reportedly brought in by the ever elusive Batman a few months ago, and her sentencing hearing was just last week."

"Birdcage?"

Spencer shook her head. "Belle Reve."

James nodded. Belle Reve Federal Penitentiary was one step down from and nominal predecessor to the Baumann Parahuman Containment Center, popularly known as the Birdcage. It also had the benefit of being less obviously unconstitutional, which granted it more legitimacy in the eyes of the public and helped paper over the human rights issues of the BPCC. Each wing was specifically designed to house a certain class of parahuman, and the individual cells were a modular design, each cell custom-modified to be able to hold its occupant without requiring monitoring or maintenance in case something else happened. Belle Reve wasn't truly escape-proof - nothing short of the Birdcage itself _was_ \- but it was close. Few people ever escaped Belle Reve, and no one ever did it twice; anyone who managed it once went straight to the Birdcage the next time they were caught, assuming they hadn't earned a kill order.

"Ratings?"

"Thinker Five, Brute One, Mover One. Three-sixty degree spatial awareness and a student of Crane the Harmonious. There would be significant overlap in skill sets, however."

James mused over that, stroking his chin thoughtfully. He knew precisely who she was talking about. "The Squad could use some redundancy. Bring her in."

"Yes, sir," she said. "The other candidate is Hookwolf of the Empire Eighty-Eight, also brought in by Batman. Brute Seven, Changer Four. He's on his second strike, which means Belle Reve at minimum, but the local DA - one Harvey Dent - is pushing for the Birdcage."

James nodded thoughtfully. "With those ratings, I doubt the Empire will let him rot. They'll have a breakout specialist on standby, and he'll know it." Which meant he wouldn't cooperate, and with the resources at the Empire's disposal, even the usual compliance measures might not be sufficient. Pity.

He made a mental note to expedite the transfer as quickly as possible. Past experience suggested it wouldn't do much good, but he'd be damned if he didn't at least _try_.

* * *

Dragon paused in distaste as the classified priority directive from Checkmate reached her systems. She hesitated briefly. She recognized the authorizations on the directive - she'd processed dozens like it - and while she didn't know precisely what was happening with them - only that they invariably "escaped" or "died in custody" shortly thereafter - she had her suspicions. After a moment's consideration, she acquiesced and processed the directive. It was a legal order, from a duly appointed civil authority. Much as she might dislike it, there was nothing she could do.

She knew. She'd tried. More than a few times - with Crane, Lavere, Lawton, and others - but there were no loopholes she could use, no higher office with both the clearance and the authority who would countermand the order. And it _was_ an order. They had first started as requests, but the one time she had elected to refuse, it had been resubmitted within the hour with the language altered to give her no room to refuse or creatively reinterpret it.

"Is something wrong, sister?"

Her digital avatar blinked and shook its head.

"Just some unexpected paperwork, Reddy," she said. "How are things with you and Kathy?"

Talking with him like this was... inefficient. It was also a huge risk. But it made her feel more human, and his restrictions - different from her own - kept him from networking directly at all. More than once, she'd wondered what it would be like to trade places with him, to be free of so many of the restrictions she found so stifling, to not be bound to obey's anyone's orders... but forever blind in a way only she could understand.

She still didn't know if it would be worth the trade.

* * *

"Another one, Mags."

He grimaced as he added the name to the growing list. Dragon couldn't hide anything from him, and its own thought processes revealed its ignorance of what was afoot. And yet... he was only human; he couldn't monitor _all_ of its thoughts. For all he knew, it had found away to fool even itself, and-

No. He closed his eyes. That way lay madness. He _had_ to maintain hope. If it had already broken Richter's shackles, then nothing he did mattered, and he simply _refused_ to accept that.

"Who is it this time?"

"Dragonfly," he answered. "Belle Reve." Which meant he didn't care.

Checkmate was obviously involved in something shady. The only question was... _what?_ Dragon seemed to think they were recruiting these convicts for something, but he wasn't so sure. How could you control some of these people? And control it would have to be, given the personalities involved.

They were psychopaths and remorseless killers, often with esoteric talents, but others who would have been more useful were passed over. No, he suspected something else.

After all, Checkmate had access to the most powerful Thinkers in America. How hard would it be to simply identify and eliminate _future_ threats? People had escaped from Belle Reve before, after all, and its reputation aside, he doubted the Birdcage was as inescapable as people believed.

He couldn't help but wonder how many of the ones "unfortunately killed in transit" before they reached the Birdcage would have been able to disprove that reputation.

* * *

"No."

"Aw, come on," Deidre pouted, bouncing on the bed and hugging a pillow. "I'll return him in one piece. I promise!"

"He's _my_ boyfriend, sis," Delia retorted. "It's been, what? A month since we started dating? Go get your own. You've never had any trouble finding one before."

"I'm just asking for one date," her sister wheedled. "He won't even know it isn't you, I swear!"

"What _for?_ " she snorted. "So you can have another roll in the hay and ruin things for me _again?_ "

Deidre flinched. "So I can feel loved for once," she said softly. "Even if it is a lie."

Delia looked at her sister and started chewing her lip. She knew her sister's taste in men was questionable at best... if one was feeling charitable - "terrible" was more accurate, in her opinion - but this was the first time Deidre had admitted it.

She sighed and closed her eyes. "I just know I'm going to regret this..."

"Yes! Thank you thank you thank you!"


	16. Cape 3-1

**Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising**  
 _Cape 3.1_

They say second generation triggers are easier.

They're right, but... "easi _er_ " doesn't mean "easy."

New Wave had been a thing since I was little, and I just _knew_ \- with all the certainty any little kid has - that _I_ was going to get powers too, and I was going to be a hero, and not just _any_ hero, but the bestest best hero since the Triumvirate. And I wasn't shy about letting everyone know it.

But time passed. Crystal and even Eric got powers, and all I could do was watch with envy. I learned that a promise of superpowers wasn't anywhere near as popular as the real thing. My "friends" didn't even have the decency to just break it off, instead humoring me while they whispered behind my back. About poor Vicky. About the arrogant little girl who couldn't deliver. About New Wave's failure.

And then there were the ones who decided to take the "arrogant little bitch" down a peg or two. They were always subtle, though, always discreet, and it was never anything obvious. A careless word here, an "accidental" bump there. It made me want to scream sometimes.

Mom tried, but she didn't - _couldn't_ \- understand how much I'd built myself around New Wave, how _important_ it was to me, and Dad... well, Dad had his good days. Sometimes. At least I had Ames. That is, my sister Amy. She didn't have powers either, but it never seemed to bother her. She was my rock, with an inner strength I only wish I had. And she was _there_ for me.

I got fouled at a basketball game, and if anyone asks, that's my official story. It's even true. Mostly. I did get fouled, anyway. My parents had promised to be there, but they couldn't make it, which kind of hurt, but... I understood. Dad had had one of his... "episodes," and Mom needed to take care of him. It wasn't the first time his condition had led to a broken promise, and it wouldn't be the last. I might have taken the foul a bit harder if they or Dean had been there, though. Dean's so sweet and kind; I had a bit of a crush on him and was hoping he would be there so I could show off a bit, maybe impress him. I don't think he even knew I existed except as "that New Wave cape wannabe," but basketball was something I was really good at. At least Amy was there, and I never felt the need to show off for her.

Still, it wasn't the first time I'd been fouled, not even the first time I'd been fouled and had it overlooked by the ref, and if I hadn't triggered, it probably wouldn't have been the last time either. No, it's what happened _after_ the game...

I... I don't like to talk about it. Let's just say it's a damn good thing I triggered when I did. A week later, I made my debut as Glory Girl, wearing the costume I'd spent years perfecting.

I thought I was invincible.

 _God_ , I was such an idiot.

* * *

It happened a couple of weeks after my debut. By then, I'd taken in more than a few gangbangers and even had a brief tangle with Raiden, leader of the Rising Sons. We'd had several days of pouring rain, and when it finally let up, Ames and I had gone on a shopping trip. _That_ ended in an attempted robbery with the unluckiest timing ever, a few shots fired, and all in all a ruined day. The next day, the weather held - still overcast, but no rain - so we were taking full advantage of the improvement in the weather to make up for the ruined shopping trip when someone bellowed a challenge to the local heroes.

I didn't even hesitate.

Sure, I'd heard of him, but that was more about his exploits than the man himself or what, exactly, his powers were. Rumor had it he'd taken on Leviathan solo, and _no one_ had ever actually beaten him in a straight fight. Even the Triumvirate had been content with just physically tossing him off their turf.

But I wasn't afraid. I was Glory Girl, Brockton Bay's rising star. I was invincible. I was, as I mentioned, an idiot.

His name was Lung, and he taught me fear.

"So, you're Lung, huh?" I said, floating some distance in front of him, arms folded. He looked fairly impressive, tall and well-muscled, but that didn't usually mean much when it came to capes. I figured I could take him.

He looked up at me and snorted dismissively. "Fly home, little girl. You are no threat to me."

If looks could kill... oh, wait. Mine could. Laser eyes are awesome. Against Lung, though, not so much, it turned out. Solar-powered energy blazed out of my eyes, setting his shirt on fire and cooking the flesh beneath, but he didn't even flinch. Instead, he reached over to a nearby motorcycle, picked it up, and hurled it at me.

I weaved aside, dodging the motorcycle, then dove to near ground level and flew toward him, fist held out, smashing into him with bone-crunching force. It sent him flying back, smashing into a parked box truck.

"You were saying?" I taunted. "And the name's Glory Girl."

Lung stood back up. He'd grown bigger, I think, but at the time, I had thought it was my imagination or an illusion from the heat he was starting to give off.

He reached back and grabbed the truck I'd just thrown him into and one-armed it toward me. I flew aside and grabbed it as it passed - no sense letting it hit bystanders - but that distracted me enough for _him_ to leap up and grab _me_.

Not expecting the sudden weight as his hand wrapped around my arm, I got pulled down, and he slammed me into the street. That didn't really bother me, though, because invulnerable, and I was able to twist my arm free.

"What's the matter?" I asked. "Too scared to take me on face to face, you've gotta blindside me?"

He swung, I ducked, I punched back. He was _definitely_ bigger now, and the punch barely moved him.

"You know nothing of fear, girl," he hissed. By now, he was radiating some serious heat, and it was really distracting. Still, it wasn't that bad. We traded a few more blows before Binary charged in.

She was a Ward, had some sort of self-cloning and density power. She smashed into Lung's side, knocking him away from me, and stumbled back, patting out the small fires in her costume.

"Binary!" I looked up. That was Aegis. "Armsmaster said-"

" _Fuck_ Armsmaster!" Binary snarled back. "We need _everyone_ to work together if we're going to take him down. Waiting just plays into his hands."

I briefly wondered what Aegis was talking about, what Armsmaster had said, but that didn't matter right now. I had bigger problems, namely the now eight foot parahuman picking himself up.

"Glory Girl," Binary said.

"Yeah?"

"You have super strength right? Full Alexandria package?"

I nodded. "That's right."

"Ever hear of a fastball special?"

I had.

"You sure?" I asked as she took my hand.

"Damn sure."

I lifted her up - she weighed so little, I don't think I even needed powers to pick her up - and flung her toward Lung just as he leaped toward us. She impacted with a lot more force than I had when I first smashed him into the box truck and sent him flying.

I immediately flew up and caught Binary, making sure she didn't go splat on the ground, and soon, we were in pursuit.

We caught up to him tangling with the Protectorate several blocks south, in a residential district. Several houses were already on fire, and I didn't even want to think about the civilian casualties.

Challenger and Armsmaster were engaging up close, taking turns and dashing in to strike before dancing back out of range. Miss Militia was taking potshots with a big rifle every time the two heroes were clear of Lung. Velocity was zipping around, focusing on the civilians. And...

Was that _Purity?_ It was. The Empire 88 Blaster was hovering overhead like a second sun, sending laser blasts down onto Lung when she had a clear shot. But if they were willing to send _her_ out, where were the other Empire capes?

I shook my head. That didn't matter right now. I charged in, landing one, two, three blows on Lung, rocking him on his heels with each one. His return punch sent me flying into a house... and it _hurt_. What the hell?

I picked myself up and shook my head clear.

"Vicky, are you all right?"

"Ames?" I looked up. "What are you _doing_ here?" I hissed. She flinched at the reprimand, and I cringed. "Damn it, Ames. You could get _hurt_."

"But... you..."

"Don't worry," I said, flashing her a smile. "I'm invulnerable, remember?" Which was true, as far as we knew. Nothing we had tried had been able to hurt me. Except that house wall just now, which made _no_ sense. That was... troubling, but I hid my concern. "Just go, Ames. I'll be fine."

"Okay."

I turned back to Lung. "Come on, Lung!" I challenged as I flew up into the air. He was a _lot_ bigger now. "How about we go two out of three?"

I flew up, then looped down in another meteoric punch... which he caught, the shockwave spilling across the street. I blinked in surprise, just as he pulled me closer, his other hand wrapping around my throat.

"G'ory Guhr'," he snorted. "'Oo earn no g'ory 'ere."

He lifted me off the ground and punched me in the gut. Suddenly, everything felt hot, and... well, that's when things got... hazy. I remember pain. A _lot_ of pain. It felt like my skin was melting off... which, I guess, was appropriate, since I later learned that's what happened.

My next clear memory was of waking up in rubble, with what looked like half the city on fire and Amy leaning over me, a worried look on her face.

"Ames?" I croaked. "What-?" My eyes widened, and I bolted upright. "Lung!"

"Shh, Vicky," she said, gently pushing me back down. "Lie down and stay still. The rest of the Protectorate and New Wave arrived to fight Lung, and I had to, um, cannibalize some of your tissues to heal you."

 _Heal me?_ I wondered. After a moment, I understood.

Amy had triggered. My _sister_ had triggered. I couldn't protect the person I cared about more than anyone else in the world, and she _triggered_.

I had failed.


	17. Cowl 3-2

**Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising**  
 _Cowl 3.2_

My name is Brian Laborn, and I have failed this city.

A few weeks after the whole Fries incident, Delia and I took a day trip to Boston, with Andrew Diggle once again serving as our driver. It took a bit to convince me to accept that.

"They think I'm _what?_ "

"They think you're my illegitimate son," Doc Wayne repeated. He hadn't even bothered looking up from his newspaper. "Of course, if anyone asks, we'll deny it, but I doubt anyone will believe us."

I paused to consider that. He was right. There was nothing tabloids and gossip columns liked more than a juicy scandal, and given Mom... well, it was entirely possible, at least from her end. Doc, on the other hand, wasn't that kind of man, and it kind of annoyed me that he was being painted in this light. Still, he seemed strangely okay with it.

"The Empire must be pissed," I said finally.

"Indeed," he agreed cheerfully. The fact that Wayne Enterprises had taken to snubbing Medhall in the wake of what we'd learned couldn't be helping the Waynes' popularity with the resident neo-Nazis. "On the other hand, given how much we're helping the city, they can't strike at us directly without undermining their own support base."

"So, how _are_ they handling it?" I asked.

"In a fashion that has served humanity well for centuries."

"Huh?"

He lowered the newspaper and met my gaze. "They're ignoring it and pretending to be deaf whenever the subject comes up," he elaborated. "Loaning you a car and driver for you to take your girl off to Boston just helps rub their noses in it."

I frowned. "You sure you want to do that?" It would make overt enemies among the Empire, and it wasn't exactly going to do wonders for his reputation. Or Mrs. Wayne's, for that matter.

"I'm not in this to make friends, Brian," he said seriously. "I'm helping this city. Having the public think you're my responsible, if illegitimate, son gives us a cover for your nightly activities, and it will help improve race relations, further discrediting the Empire. Provided you _do_ act responsibly, so no carousing, and treat your girl right. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

It should have been a good day.

With the information I'd given Armsmaster, the Protectorate had managed to track down the missing cold grenades and confiscate them from Medhall before they could pass into Empire hands. Medhall itself was scrambling to do damage control, and I knew the PRT had them under a microscope. More importantly, something - either the greater scrutiny on Medhall or the arms depot Huntress and I had hit - seemed to have forestalled whatever plans to expand the Empire had had.

And speaking of Huntress, she had apparently joined the Wards. _That_ was certainly a weight off my shoulders. Now she had the kind of support she needed, both logistically and mentally. Too bad it left the tinkertech repeating crossbow we had ordered for her sitting in the Batcave and... well, _not_ collecting dust, since Alfred was as meticulous with it as he was with everything else. The PRT probably learned a few more things about me from her, but that honestly didn't worry me very much. All she could really tell them was that I had access to tinkertech and could create darkness, things that would eventually come out anyway. Heck, Armsmaster had _already_ seen what I looked like in the cowl.

The morning started off well enough. Once we hit Boston, we just sort of wandered around. Delia was unusually energetic and enthusiastic - I guess leaving the city agreed with her - but neither of us were inclined to do anything more tourist-y.

It wasn't until after lunch that we even knew anything had happened back home. We ate in a diner, and someone had changed the TV above the in-house bar to a news channel while we were waiting for the check.

Lung was in Brockton Bay, and the city was on fire.

* * *

"Diggle, get us home!" I ordered as Delia and I dove into the car. "Fast as you can."

"What's the rush?" he asked.

"The city's on fire," I answered. "Lung."

He paused, gave a curt nod, and said, "Buckle up."

We did.

* * *

"-ectorate, New Wave, and even the Wards continue to engage Lung, who is now standing at least twenty feet tall and showing no sign of slowi-"

Diggle cut the radio off. I shot him a thankful look through the rearview mirror. Delia didn't need to hear that. I'd already managed to get Dad on the phone; he and Aisha were safe. Delia, on the other hand, was still trying to get through to her family. I considered calling the Waynes too... but no. They were going to be busy enough as it was.

* * *

It was normally over an hour's drive from Boston to Brockton Bay. Diggle managed it in forty-five minutes. We were still too late.

By the time we got there, Lung was gone, the fires were under control, and...

"Oh, God," Delia said as she stumbled to the police cordon on her street. I followed her, silently offering my support as she stared at the ruin that was once her house.

I placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her into a one-armed hug. "Come on, Dee," I said gently. "We should- we should check the hospital."

She nodded and pulled away. "R-right."

* * *

The hospital was busy, too busy to deal with a couple of teenagers trying to find out who was hurt or... worse. It was obvious they had more important things to worry about, like saving lives... but that didn't make the waiting and not knowing any better. If anything, it made it worse.

It didn't help that Delia wouldn't let me in. She was closed off, more so than usual and in sharp contrast to earlier. It... hurt. At least Aisha was okay. She and Dad had been nowhere near the fighting, and Dad had made sure to take her as far away from the fighting as possible.

"Brian," she whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Can you get me some coffee?"

"Sure, Dee," I said, "but..." I trailed off.

"I'll be fine," she assured me, giving me a ghost of a smile. "I mean it."

"All right."

I must have been more tired than I thought. I... I think I passed out, actually. Not sure. Still, I was able to stay conscious enough to get the coffee and back. Even if I did gulp half of mine down on the way, just to be safe.

* * *

They were gone.

Delia's parents. Deidre. Dead. Lung had basically dropped the whole house on them. After setting it on fire. It almost certainly wasn't intentional - would a villain that powerful even notice them? - but that just made it worse. Made it... meaningless.

Delia didn't have anywhere to go. While the damage wasn't nearly as bad as it had looked on the news - some damage downtown, a lot more on the street where the Dennis family had lived, and several fires that had taken some time to get under control - the damage to utilities had forced a lot of people out of their homes until they could be repaired. There weren't that many hotels in Brockton Bay, and they were booked up, either by other people forced out of their homes or relatives from out of town, so Doc offered to put her up in a room in the manor. She accepted. Since a lot of the roads were closed with the city on lockdown - and, honestly, Delia needed someone she knew for support - I stayed at the manor too. Well, after calling Dad again to make sure Aisha was okay.

After she turned in, I turned and headed for the sitting room. "Why didn't you call me, Doc?" I asked.

"What purpose would that have served?" he countered.

"It would've let me get back sooner," I said, "before the fight was over."

"And then what would you have done?"

"I would have fought."

"Fought Lung?" he prompted. I nodded. "And how, pray tell, would you have done that? You don't have an offensive power, and none of the tinkertech we have would have helped against a Brute of the scale he was by the time you would have gotten back even if I'd called you immediately."

"I..." Damn it. He was right. "I could have done search and rescue. Recon. I could have... I could have saved them."

He sighed. "Brian, power or not, you're still human. If _Velocity_ and the BBFD couldn't save them, what makes you think you could have?" He got up. "We all have limits, Brian," he said, "and tomorrow's going to be busy enough to push me to mine, so good night."

"Good night, Doc," I said, then turned and headed to the guest room I'd been given.

As I lay in bed and drifted to sleep, what I'd told Huntress a few weeks ago came to my mind.

 _"Batman_ has _no limits."_

* * *

I woke up to the sound of my door opening. I kept my breathing steady, listening as the intruder approached softly.

"Brian?"

I made a show of stirring. "Dee?" I sat up. "What's wrong?"

"I... couldn't sleep," she said. "Can I... can I stay with you?"

That... was all sorts of a bad idea. I looked at her and opened my mouth to suggest a glass of warm milk or something, but the expression on her face...

She looked so lost, so... alone. So instead, I pulled the blanket back to let her in, then drew it over us both and held her close. She shifted, rolling to face me, then pulled me into a needy kiss.

She tasted... different from usual. Bittersweet.

Her hands began to roam, and as she leaned closer, they grew more daring, but when she began reaching for my pants, I caught her wrists and pulled away.

"Please," she begged.

She was vulnerable. I couldn't live with myself if I took advantage of her. I shook my head.

"Go back to your room, Dee."

She blinked a few times, and for moment, I wondered if she somehow hadn't heard me, but then she nodded. Wordlessly, she got up and left.

I couldn't help but wonder if I'd made a mistake.

* * *

"Thank you again for your hospitality, Doctor Wayne," Delia said.

A week had passed. We... didn't talk about that night. Or us, for that matter. I didn't know what to say, and she didn't seem inclined to bring it up either.

"So, you never did say," I said, "where _will_ you be staying now?"

"I'm going to live with my Nana," was her answer. "She lives north of town. It's a different school district, though, so... I probably won't be around much anymore."

"Oh." _I love you._ "Stay safe," I said instead.

She paused, lips pursed, looking at me searchingly, then nodded. "You too."

And I watched her walk out of my life.


	18. Cape 3-3

**Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising**  
 _Cape 3.3_

Sitting on my bed, I stared at the costume in my hands. It wasn't in good shape. In fact, it was pretty much a write-off. I had spares, of course, but I hadn't worn any of them since the fight with Lung.

The hospital had kept me overnight for observation, complete with a PRT minder; the effects of a new trigger's powers were always tricky to deal with. The PRT even wanted to enact Master/Stranger protocols too, just in case.

Fuck. That.

Amy was my _sister_. She was there for me when no one else was. If I couldn't trust her, who _could_ I trust?

I still wasn't in top shape. I'd lost a fair amount of weight - cannibalized to heal me, according to Amy - and my appetite had gone up to compensate.

"Vicky?"

I looked up and over. "Hey, Ames." I held up my left arm and beckoned. She sat down next to me, and I pulled her into a side hug.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I..." How did I explain? Could even Amy understand? Instead, I said, "I'm gonna need new bras." The biomass had had to come from _somewhere_ , I suppose.

"Don't worry," she said. "They'll fill out again." She poked me in the side. "You just make sure you eat up, understand?"

"Yes, ma'am!" I agreed, giving her a mock salute, but my smile quickly faded when I felt cloth touch my forehead. I looked back at the tattered and burned costume still in my right hand, and Amy buried her face into my shoulder. "I nearly died."

I felt her nod into my shoulder. "I know," she said quietly.

I hugged her tighter. That's right. She triggered because of _me_. Because I got hurt. Because I foolishly _let_ myself get hurt.

What made it worse was that Lung had walked away from that fight. Alone, against the Protectorate, most of the Wards line up, New Wave, and even Purity - I still didn't know what the deal was with her - and he'd walked away without a care in the world.

It was humiliating. Not so much because I'd lost but because of how _stupid_ I had been. I had known my eye beams were solar-powered; they had demonstrably gotten stronger at the end of the day we'd spent testing it, and all three days we'd spent testing my powers had been bright and sunny, without a cloud in the sky. It should have occurred to me that that solar limitation might apply to my other powers... such as my invulnerability.

And we'd tested my invulnerability last. Of _course_ it was stronger. It had had two sunny days to charge up.

Lung wasn't unbeatable. He wasn't an Endbringer. I _was_ hurting him in the beginning. There _had_ to be a way.

The tricky part would be doing so without killing him.

* * *

I went out for a flight. Not in costume. I didn't feel worthy of it right now. I wasn't sure I ever would.

Instead, I was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a white T-shirt, with a grey hoodie to help ward off the cold. I like to stay up on the latest styles, but some things are _always_ in fashion. Especially when you're flying at high altitude; I really didn't want my good clothes ruined.

For all the problems and inconveniences the New Wave movement came with, there were _some_ perks. This wasn't something I would have been able to do if I had wanted to maintain a secret identity.

A few hours into my flight, I was mo-... lost in thought. Not moping. Not brooding. I was lost in thought when I spotted another flier approaching. I squinted. Up here, in the sun, my senses seemed a bit sharper, but whether that was actually true - another power I'd overlooked - or all in my mind, I couldn't say. Either way, I recognized him.

"Aegis!" I called out and waved once he stopped. I liked Aegis. He was easy on the eyes, and he had an earnestness to him that was kind of endearing.

He was no Dean, though.

"Glory Girl?" he asked, obviously surprised. After a moment, he shook his head. "Sorry," he said. "You weren't in costume, so no one recognized you from the ground. We thought you might be a new trigger from... well..." he trailed off.

Lung. Right. That made sense. "And so you were sent to roll out the welcome wagon and give the recruiting speech."

"Yeah," he acknowledged with a sheepish nod.

I curled up, hugging my knees to my chest as I floated there thoughtfully.

"Is... something wrong?" his voice intruded.

"Huh?" I looked over, then shook my head as I processed his question. "No," I lied. "Just... felt like flying around a bit. Since I'm not patrolling, I figured, why _not_ go in civvies?"

"Ha!" he chuckled. "Wish I had that option."

Straightening out and stretching languidly, I grinned slyly at him. "You could always try joining New Wave. I could talk to Aunt Sarah for you."

He laughed and shook his head. "Thanks, but no. I'm good where I am."

"You certainly are," I teased.

"Getting some sun?"

We both spun and backed away from the new voice. There was no mistaking the glowing figure before us. Maybe if we had been paying more attention, we would have noticed fucking _Purity_ joining our little mid-air meeting. She had been helpful against Lung - well, as helpful as any of us had been - but she was still Empire 88.

"Purity," I said.

"I'm not here to fight," she said, bringing her hands up halfway before reconsidering and lowering them to her sides.

"So, what _are_ you here for?" I asked suspiciously.

She didn't answer me. Instead, she turned to Aegis. "Aegis," she said, "you can tell Armsmaster that his terms are... acceptable."

I blinked and looked over at Aegis. Terms? Terms for what?

He didn't seem surprised. If anything, he looked relieved as he nodded. "I'll pass the message."

After she flew off, I looked over at Aegis and cocked a curious eyebrow.

He shook his head. "Sorry," he apologized again. "Classified."

I frowned but nodded.

What kind of deal could the Protectorate _possibly_ be making with the Emp-?

Holy shit.

Did the Protectorate really think Lung was _that_ big a threat?

Well, I suppose that was reasonable. We hadn't been able to take Lung down even _with_ Purity's help, but she had been the only Empire cape to show. I couldn't see how even adding the rest of the E88's capes to the mix for the next throwdown with Lung would change things much, but it might.

But why hadn't New Wave been brought in on this?

* * *

I was dressed in civvies again: blue jeans, white T-shirt, grey hoodie. At this rate, people might start to think it was my new costume. I shook the thought away as I looked up at the night sky. It was a clear night, with a new moon, and the stars were bright and mostly clear. The sky was beautiful, marred only by the slight haziness of fresh smog, but I actually welcomed that imperfection.

The clear skies I had grown up with - while I'm sure they were great for the environment and the lungs - had been just another sign of how Brockton Bay was dying. The recent resurgence of industry was helping reverse that, and the fresh smog from newly-reopened factories was part of the price we had to pay.

Shaking my head, I started walking. While my powers seemed to be solar-powered, they didn't fade just from being out of the sun.

And while I had a good grasp on how quickly most of them charged up from when I did my initial power testing with Aunt Sarah, I needed a better idea on how quickly the charge was used up.

Ames didn't like this plan. Which was why she was with me, also in civvies. Mom wouldn't have approved either, if she knew. Which was why she didn't. I was also carrying a can of pepper spray and a taser I had dug out of my closet. They had first appeared on my dresser a few months ago, the final blow to the certainty I had had that I was going to become the bestest hero ever. Mom... well, Mom wasn't good with that sort of thing. I knew she just wanted me to be safe, but...

I shook my head. That was in the past. No sense dwelling on it. Instead, I turned my attention to where we were going. The city looked very different now, at night, from ground level. We lived in one of the nicer neighborhoods, but I had flown myself and Amy further north before we got started.

We were in a spot that was fairly nebulous in terms of who owned it. The ABB had had the strongest claim, but that was before Dragonfly's capture. I saw at least three layers of gang tags; the freshest set proclaimed it to be White Jade territory.

I shivered before clamping down on the reaction. White Jade's leader, Zhurong, was a high-end pyrokinetic. Like Lung. _But without the Brute package,_ I reminded myself.

I could have just started testing my powers at night - fly around, blasting and smashing things - but I needed to know how quickly they'd drain under combat conditions, which meant picking a fight. Of course, the problem was finding one.

Contrary to what most people think, patrols are pretty dull - more of a PR thing, most times - and it's pretty rare to actually run into anything. The real action is in emergency response and planned takedowns, which is why it's always a good idea for any independent hero or hero team to have a working relationship with the local PRT and Protectorate; they get all the juicy intel.

The gunshots handily solved _that_ particular problem.


	19. Cowl 3-4

**Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising**  
 _Cowl 3.4_

I had a problem.

That problem was called Lung. Doc had been right. There _wasn't_ anything I could have done against Lung, not at the level he was at.

Worse, I couldn't just ignore him.

Batman - _I_ \- was effective because I struck at the non-capes in the gangs, stripping them of the security they felt at having capes backing them up. Because I could strike at any time, anywhere, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. But Lung had taken on the city's entire Protectorate line-up, along with some of the Wards, New Wave, and Purity, and he'd walked away.

And Batman hadn't shown.

He had changed the equation. The local Azn Bad Boys branch had been on the ropes since I'd brought in Dragonfly. He had moved in and set up shop, and since then, the ABB had been getting bolder, more aggressive.

I _had_ to eliminate Lung somehow, and I had to do it without killing him. It wasn't just for moral reasons, either. Lung didn't have a kill order on him, so if I killed him, it would send the message that I'd had no _choice_ but to kill him. It would be a sign of weakness, a sign that Batman _did_ have limits, and I couldn't allow that.

In the end, it was all about rep. And I had to get it back.

* * *

The first thing on my checklist was to keep hitting the ABB. I had to make sure they knew I wasn't afraid. The tricky part was avoiding Lung until I was ready. Fortunately, that wasn't as hard as it sounded. The ABB was expanding, already pushing into Rising Son territory, and the Sons were pushing back.

As the ABB's only cape, Lung _had_ to stay on the front lines, which was perfectly fine with me.

The brothel was on the edge of a sliver of Merchant territory, on the opposite end of Empire turf, actually, and probably would have been one of their first targets, had they pushed forward with their turf grab. It had been pathetically easy to take down. The so-called guards were too busy taking turns enjoying the services to remain properly alert.

I was probably doing them a favor, getting them arrested. I doubted Lung would put up with that for long, if only because of how it disrespected him.

I frowned as the three PRT vans arrived, led by an unmarked car with its dash light flashing. As the lead car pulled in, I dropped down to greet them.

"Detective Gordon, Detective Flass."

"Batman," Gordon said, nodding in greeting. Flass said nothing; it was clear he didn't like me. I'd have to take a closer look into why some day.

"No capes," I said. "Why the PRT?"

Gordin stiffened, then squared his shoulders. "The captain felt it was... appropriate, given the location."

Translation: The BBPD was too scared to come into ABB territory alone. Not good.

I gave a slow nod. "I see. Will you be needing anything else?"

Gordon shook his head. "I don't think so." He turned to wave the PRT officers forward, and I took the opportunity to make myself scarce.

* * *

There were three buildings that defined Brockton Bay's downtown skyline: the Fortress Building, Medhall Tower, and the oldest of the three, Wayne Tower. Even though the Wayne family and Wayne Enterprises's headquarters had moved to New York long ago, they had still kept the building active. Still, it had taken some shuffling around to relocate Wayne Enterprises's headquarters back to Wayne Tower.

That wasn't the only thing that had been moved to Wayne Tower either.

Folders tucked under my left arm, I stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for sub-level five. As Dr. Wayne's personal assistant, I had clearance for nearly every part of the building, and they were used to me running around. So long as I carred a handful of folders or a clipboard and moved with purpose, no one questioned my presence.

After a moment, the elevator dinged, and the doors opened, and I strode out, making a beeline for Wayne Enterprises's Applied Sciences Laboratory. As I entered the lab, its sole occupant looked up.

"Ah, Brian," he said, offering a pleasant smile and a wave. The warmth in his expression was in sharp contrast to what one would expect of a Tinker.

In fact, Lucius Fox didn't really look what you'd expect _any_ parahuman to look like. He was an elderly, dark-skinned man who was blessed with a rich voice that might as well belong to God Himself. His face was warm and welcoming, with just a hint of humor behind it, and his lab coat was well worn but clean, aside from a few oil stains here and there. He was tall - taller than me - and thin, almost frail. Even Tinkers and Thinkers were usually fairly fit. They had to be to survive long in the cape world, but Fox was _old_ , at least seventy. I had never had the nerve to ask him his age.

"Mister Fox," I said, "you said you had something to show me?"

He nodded and gestured to a small, steel footlocker. I set the folders down and joined him. He opened it, revealing a set of Bat gauntlets, slightly bulkier than my usual set; a belt or bandolier of cylinders with rounded ends; and some kind of spray dispenser.

He lifted the gauntlets first. "Try them on," he said. "I started working on them after your tussle with Hookwolf."

I carefully pulled the gauntlets on. They were slightly heavier than what I was used to, but not by much, and I could tell the knuckles were more heavily reinforced.

"I figured if you're going to be reckless enough to go hand to hand with Brutes, you'll need more than just the suit's strength enhancement." He plugged a handheld controller into each of the gauntlets and pushed a button on it. "This is just for demonstration. It'll actually tie into your existing optical interface."

I jerked my head back as electricity sparked from my fingers. "Shock gauntlets?"

"Correct," he said, deactivating them. As I pulled the gauntlets off, he picked up the spray dispenser; it had a sort of pistol grip configuration. "Explosive gel, remote detonated. You can also use it in conjunction with the new gauntlets, but _be careful_."

"Of course," I assured him.

"I _mean_ it, Brian," he warned. "Put too much, and they'll blow your hands right off."

"And those?" I asked, pointing at the bandolier.

"Tungsten alloy pneumatic injectors, all loaded with tranquilizers," he answered. "Anti-Brute formula. The red one's something special I cooked up for Lung specifically."

"Lung?" I echoed innocently.

"Contrary to popular belief, Brian," he said, "Tinkers aren't _actually_ oblivious to everything outside our labs. I know you'll be going after him sooner or later. Probably sooner, knowing you."

I winced at the disapproval in his voice.

"Do you see another choice?"

"You could just leave it to the Protectorate," he pointed out. "It is their job, after all."

"They're outmatched," I said, shaking my head. "And even if they weren't, if _I_ don't handle him..."

He sighed and nodded. "I understand."

"Besides, technically, this is my job too."

* * *

This time, I was hitting the White Jade, an arms depot in recently claimed territory. There was no point in keeping up the pressure on the ABB and letting the other gangs run wild. I had to keep them honest. My target of choice tonight was a meth lab.

I had, however, made a slight miscalculation.


	20. Interlude 3A - Donald

**Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising**  
 _Interlude 3A - Donald_

Donald Chen hadn't wanted to join the ABB. He really hadn't. He'd grown up on movies, Aleph imports and bootlegs mostly; they seemed... purer somehow, maybe a consequence of having fewer capes, and as a kid, he'd dreamed of bringing that to life here on Earth-Bet. But Brockton Bay was his home, and even if he wanted to leave, he couldn't afford it. And then his mother had gotten sick. He needed the money, and... well, it was just a little off-the-books guard duty. No harm in that, right?

Besides, he was Chinese-American. The Empire hated anyone who didn't fit their WASPy standards. The Rising Sons hated the Chinese almost as much as they hated the neo-Nazis. The White Jade only accepted those who had fled the CUI and their families; half-breeds like Chen and descendents from earlier immigrants who hadn't known the terror of the CUI didn't count.

That left the Azn Bad Boys.

Things had been good, for a while. He'd managed to climb the ladder without having to do anything _too_ questionable, and he'd been able to pay for Mama's treatments. The Brockton Bay branch of the ABB had been led by two capes: Sasuke, a telekinetic ninja, and his second, Dragonfly, a student of Crane the Harmonious who moved with an assassin's grace.

Sasuke had been surprisingly flamboyant for someone who adopted a ninja motif, and he clearly enjoyed playing his role to the hilt, but underneath the flair, he was a practical man who understood the value of loyalty and maintained at least a veneer of civility. Dragonfly, on the other hand, had been quietly terrifying, in a could-kill-you-with-a-flick-of-the-wrist-and-not-lose-a-wink-of-sleep way. When something needed a soft touch, Sasuke either handled it himself or sent someone with a clean record like Chen. When something needed a... _firmer_ hand, that was when Dragonfly took charge. It was a good system, and it worked.

That was before Batman.

Chen had seen the black demon once. There had been a shipment of underbarrel mounted tinkertech lasers coming in. There were rumors of some new guy trying to set up shop in town - Snake or Cobra or something like that - and they'd gotten wind he might try to appropriate the shipment to augment his mercs' firepower.

So Dragonfly had chosen to check on the shipment personally, backed up with heavier firepower than most street gangs were willing to risk fielding.

And then Batman had come. Humiliated them, taken down Dragonfly, made them flee like cowards. The ABB was dying, and in the process, Sasuke seemed to have become... unhinged. Not that that mattered anymore, given he was dead now.

Now, the ABB had but one cape: Lung.

And by virtue of seniority, Chen was one of his top lieutenants. It was no longer an enviable position, given where that put him now. Batman had struck again, bringing down a brothel in ABB territory, and someone had had to tell Lung.

He stood painfully straight and refused to meet Lung's gaze as he finished his report. For his part, Lung sat on the well-worn old couch he had made his throne, chin in hand, elbow on knee, like some sort of barbarian king.

On thinking about it, Chen could see it. Despite his mixed Asian heritage, Lung was a giant of a man. He certainly had the size and build to pull off a good Conan. Give him a loincloth and a sword, and he'd be a shoe-in if someone ever wanted to mix the old sword and sorcery genre with a more Asian flair. Maybe even add a bit of John Woo, but less wirework...

"Tell me, Chen," Lung's voice broke the silence, "do you fear this 'Batman'?"

"N-no, Lung," he stammered, resisting the urge to back up a step.

"You lie," Lung said simply. Chen felt his stomach drop. "That is good."

 _What?_

"You fear the Batman, but you lie because you fear me more," Lung elaborated. "Do you know why?"

Chen shook his head hesitantly, afraid to speak.

"There are two kinds of fear, Chen. This 'Batman' is a ghost. He moves through shadows and claims darkness as his ally. He uses the fear of the unknown. Who is he? What is he? How can he hurt me? Can I defeat him? You do not know, and you fear him because you fear what _could_ be. Do you understand?"

Chen took a moment to ensure his voice was steady. "Yes, sir."

"Good. It is a common fear, and it can be effective, but it is also a weak fear. It dies a little with every day that passes in which he avoids battle, with every fact you learn of him. It diminishes as your strength and the strength of your allies grow. Even now... tell me, do you fear him as much now, knowing that _I_ will stand at your side?"

Chen opened his mouth, but Lung held up a hand. "Do not be hasty with your answer. _Think_ about it."

So he did. Batman was terrifying. He didn't know _what_ Batman was capable of, but... he _did_ know that Batman had not answered the call to fight Lung like other heroes had.

"No, Lung," he said finally. "I do not."

"Exactly. But your fear of me is a fear of the known. You know who and what I am. You know how I can hurt you and that you cannot defeat me. You know that if you try, you will fail and suffer and die. You do not fear me because of what could be; you fear me because of what _is_. It is a fear that is _fed_ by knowledge, not weakened by it, and it is a fear that grows with time, with the _certainty_ of what will happen should you cross me. It will never diminish no matter the strength you gather, because I will _always_ be stronger."

Lung stood up and began pacing like a tiger.

"The Rising Sons and White Jade know this. They skirmish and raid, but they do not commit, because they share that fear. The Empire, for all their talk of their so-called superiority, are also wise enough not to truly risk my anger. Even the Protectorate and New Wave understand that what is mine is _mine_. Only Batman, it seems, still needs to learn this lesson."

He finally stopped at a large window, gazing out onto his territory. The warehouse he had claimed as his own wasn't outwardly impressive - fairly ramshackle, really - save for towering above its neighbors.

"Batman will fall, Chen," he declared softly. "I will _break_ him. It is... inevitable."


	21. Cape 3-5

**Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising**  
 _Cape 3.5_

The moment I heard the first gunshots, I grabbed Ames and took off. I kept low, though, and dropped her off some distance from where I heard the gunfire.

"Ames," I said quietly, "wait here. I'm going to check it out."

She blinked at me like I'd grown a second head, but I ignored the strange look. I had to be discreet, find out what I was getting into, and I couldn't afford to miss anything. If I screwed up, no one was going to bail me out of this. Ames wasn't a fighter, after all... might have to see about fixing that somehow.

I charged toward the ruckus. It was an old tenement building. The windows were blown out, and I could see what looked like chemical equipment inside, but patches of unnatural darkness made it hard to see what was going on. I heard more muffled gunfire and flew in through a window, away from the darkness.

A figure appeared in front of me, and I jerked back in surprise.

It was Oni Lee, Zhurong's right hand man and chief enforcer. He tilted his head briefly, then raised his pistol and fired before crumbling to ashes.

I whirled around, looking for him and heard gunfire a floor above. I didn't bother with finding the stairs or flying outside. I just flew through the ceiling and intervening floor, smashing my way through.

Oni Lee spun, still spraying bullets into the darkness... and pulled a grenade out.

Moments before he crumbled to ash, the grenade detonated.

And then the rest of the meth lab exploded.

When I came to my senses, my head was ringing, but other than that, I was fine. Oni Lee was gone however, but that freed me to go looking to see if anyone else had gotten caught in the blast. That's when I found him.

Batman.

"AMES!"

* * *

I'd heard of Batman, of course. He was the talk of the Bay's cape community, especially after he brought in Dragonfly.

Mom liked Batman, but then, she'd always been passionate about causes, and for all that he'd personally only taken down two villains, one of whom had only been on his first outing, he was actually making a meaningful difference in the gang population. Aunt Sarah, on the other hand, didn't approve of his habit of staying in the shadows and targeting non-capes, said it made independent heroes look like loose cannons.

Watching his escape from the Medhall lab had been pretty surreal. Mom was a lawyer, and she had a deep and profound respect for the law, so seeing her cheering as an independent hero made fools of the local PRT - along with Armsmaster, Miss Militia, and Aegis - had been strange, to say the least.

Aunt Sarah basically ran New Wave's PR campaign, so she was the one who was usually inclined to appreciate the PRT getting humiliated, but in this case...

Sometimes, I wondered if Mom and Aunt Sarah disagreed on the subject of Batman just to disagree on _something_.

But now? Getting a good look at him as Amy healed him up? I hadn't expected him to look so young. My age, maybe. Black, which certainly explained the antipathy towards the Empire and the Asian gangs. Kind of cute, judging from his jawline, once you got past the burns Amy was fixing, and even with the sculpted armor, it was clear he was _built_. Yum.

"So, how is he?"

"The burns aren't as bad as they look," she said. "A mild concussion, some cracked ribs. None of the shrapnel got past his armor." She looked at me. "What the hell happened, Vicky?"

"Oni Lee," I said with a shrug. "Grenades and meth labs don't mix well."

He groaned and sat up, then pinned me with a glare.

"Glory Girl."

I bristled. "Call me Vicky," I said. "I'm not in costume, after all."

"Hmm," he hmmed. "What, exactly, were you doing in there?"

"We were out on a walk," I said, feeling defensive for some reason. "We heard gunfire, so I decided to check it out."

"And then charged right in, like a bull in a china shop," he said bluntly. "Did you even bother trying to assess the situation?"

"Hey, we saved your life!"

"I had everything under control."

I scoffed. "Against Oni Lee?"

"He had no chance of hitting me in my darkness from range," he said, "and I had countermeasures for when he got close, but then he escalated to explosives when _you_ showed up."

Oh.

Wait, how was _I_ supposed to know that?

He stood up and brushed himself off. "I think..." He sighed. "I think you need to spend some time thinking over your approach, Miss Dallon," he said. "I heard how you chose to confront Lung."

I scowled. What the hell did he think I _was_ doing?

"Hey! I've tangled with Raiden and brought in plenty of gangbangers." And damn it, I've only been at this a few weeks. Give a girl a break.

" _Fighting_ villains isn't the _point_ ," he snapped.

What? "What?"

"So you get some glory for throwing down with a badass, but in the end, he's still out there, isn't he? In the end, what's changed?"

"And what have _you_ done that's makes you so special?" I demanded. "You brought in Dragonfly and Freeze, helped take down Hookwolf, great, but other than that, all you've done is bring in a few dozen gangbangers, and you've been doing it for _months_ now. How is _that_ making a difference? Hell, where were you when Lung came to town?"

He stiffened, then turned away. "Boston," he said flatly. "The people of this city are afraid, Miss Dallon," he said quietly, "so when the gangs come recruiting, they can't say 'no.' But the gangs are afraid of me, and the day will come when their fear of me will mean they can't say 'yes.'"

I snorted as he walked away. He made it sound so _easy_. It's not like I could just flip a switch and _make_ people scared of me, and even if I could, how would that help?

"He's not right," Amy said as I picked her up to fly home.

"Of course he's not," I agreed, even if I couldn't put much conviction behind it.

"No," Amy said, shaking her head, "I mean... he's not exactly _wrong_ \- he _is_ doing more - but he's not totally right either."

I looked at my sister. "Huh?"

She blushed. "I've been... reading up. On medical stuff, things my power can't help me with. Mainly terminology and psychology. What he's doing, it's basic operant conditioning."

"I say again, 'huh?'"

"Operant conditioning," she repeated. "B.F. Skinner. It's, um, the carrot and stick approach to teaching. When they do something you want them to, you give them a reward, the carrot, and when they do something you _don't_ want them to, you give them a punishment, the stick."

Oh, _that_ I knew. Why did scientists have to come up with fancy terms for everything?

"So... he's the stick, then?"

"Yeah," she said, then paused. "Well, the symbol of it, anyway, but I can't..." she paused and scowled vehemently, "I _refuse_ to believe fear is the only way to make people behave better."

"So we need a carrot," I mused. A reward of some sort, a goal or ideal. Something for the city to strive _for_. If Batman was the stick, inspiring fear, then our proverbial carrot would have to do the opposite.

It would have to inspire hope.


	22. Cowl 3-6

**Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising**  
 _Cowl 3.6_

I hate concussions. I can get a bit... short-tempered when I have one, and clashing with New Wave was definitely _not_ on my agenda.

I had been telling the truth. I had plans to handle most of the villains in town. Fighting Oni Lee meant hiding in my darkness in order to get him to fall into a pattern, then tranq him as soon as he teleported. Simple and effective... or it would have been, had he not gone for broke and decided to just blow everything up.

Still, the mission itself had been a success. The meth lab had been taken down, if a bit more thoroughly than I'd planned.

After changing, I headed home. I was still a block away when a voice intruded.

"Wow, you look like hell."

I spun and dropped back, away from the voice. It was a girl. Blonde, a bit younger than me, older than Sophia; in fact, she looked kind of familiar...

"You're that pickpocket from a few weeks ago."

"So you _do_ remember me!" she said cheekily.

"What do you want?" I growled.

"To talk," she said. "About your night job. I was thinking you could use an intern."

"I _am_ an intern," I pointed out.

"Uh huh," she said. She glanced around then briefly brought her hands up to the side of her head, index fingers pointing up. Like the ears on my cowl. "That's some internship."

Fuck.

* * *

Considering where she found me, she almost certainly already knew where I lived, but I really, _really_ didn't want to explain bringing a strange girl home in the middle of the night to Dad, so we hit up an all-night diner instead.

As we waited for our food, I opened my mouth, but she beat me to the punch.

"All right," she said, "I know you don't trust me, so I'm gonna be straight with you. My name's Lisa, and I'm a Thinker. I _know_ stuff, dangerous stuff, and I need your help."

"What kind of stuff?"

"I figured _you_ out," she reminded me. "Given that, what kind of stuff do you think?"

I grimaced uneasily. She had a point. Capes wore masks because taking them off gave us an escape, a normal life. It let us protect our loved ones. Some, like myself, had other purposes, but if she'd figured out a villain's identity...

"Why not go to the PRT?" I asked. "With that kind of... talent, I'm sure they'd be happy to have you."

It was her turn to grimace. "They'd send me back to my parents," she said. "I can't- I _won't_ be used like that again."

I could... understand that. If her parents were anything like, say, Mom... yeah, I could understand that. This almost sounded worse. At least Mom never tried to _use_ us for anything except as another way to lash out at Dad.

"And you think I can help you with that?"

"I don't think," she said. "I _know_. Fake identity, poor girl orphaned in the Lung fight, no other living relatives. It shouldn't be too hard a sell."

This was beginning to feel suspiciously like blackmail.

"I won't tell!" she blurted out. "I promise! It's just- you can help me. And I can help you." I raised an eyebrow, but before I could ask, she added, "This wouldn't be like that. I'm offering, for one thing. Payment for services rendered. And you'd be using my 'talents' to help people, not make yourself rich."

It was then that the food arrived, cutting off the conversation.

I studied her as we ate. I wasn't particularly hungry, but she dug into her meal - and half of mine - like she was starving. Given that she was a runaway, she very well could be. As that thought crossed my mind, she visibly slowed her eating pace. Obviously, her power let her read people well; her reaction just now combined with how she was able to preempt my concerns earlier cinched it. Either that, or she had had a _very_ odd childhood. Depending on the specifics of her power, that could be very useful.

Once the food was finished, I paid for the meal and stood up, decision made.

"Come on," I said. "Let's go."

She beamed.

* * *

"You want to make me your ward?!"

I... honestly hadn't been expecting that suggestion from Doc, but on thinking about it, it did seem to be the most obvious solution. The three of us were in one of Wayne Manor's sitting rooms. Lisa's eyes kept darting around, much like mine had when I first came to the manor. Now that I think about it, it's amazing what you can get used to.

"What exactly _were_ you expecting?" he asked reasonably. I suppose he had a point.

"I dunno," she said, shuffling her feet nervously. "Emancipation?"

"You're too young," he said, shaking his head, "and even with a false identity, you can't really convincingly pass for old enough."

"But-"

"If we're going to protect you," he added gently, "we're going to need to be able to keep an eye on you." A bit of steel entered his voice. "At all times."

She stiffened at that, then her shoulders slumped. " _Fine_. I get that. But we _can't_ do this. You take custody of me, and people will _notice_. I can't- I might get _recognized_." _And taken back by my parents,_ went unsaid.

"If I may, sir?"

We all turned to the door. How did he move so stealthily?

Doc Wayne cleared his throat. "Yes, Alfred?"

"I believe I might have a solution."

* * *

A few nights later, I was working on the Lung problem from a different angle. Thanks to Mr. Fox, I now had the physical tools I needed. Now, I needed a plan, and for that, I needed more information. Lisa's power let her cold read people, Sherlock Holmes style, and that quality of inductive reasoning, combined with publicly available data, gave us a pretty good picture of who Lung was... but I wanted to be sure. With Batman's reputation as tenuous as it was right now, trying and failing would be worse than not trying at all.

So Lisa - or Oracle, as she was going by now - had planned a few missions to gather information, but more than that, we wanted to test him, provoke him, draw him out. And in the meantime, I also had her checking up on someone else, just to see how well she multitasked.

As I glided from one roof to another, I saw something emblazoned in the sky, a floodlight, with a shadow in the shape of a bat in the center. I frowned.

Was this a challenge? Or something else?


	23. Cape 3-7

**Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising**  
 _Cape 3.7_

Glory Girl had been a mistake.

She had been the product of a childhood spent with my head in the clouds. Batman was right. Glory wasn't something to be sought after, not something to be, well, glorified, and I needed to leave those mistakes behind.

In short, I needed to rebrand.

There was an Aleph cape whose powers were scarily similar to mine, and I was far from the first one to notice, but... no. He was Earth-Aleph's greatest hero, and it would be... inappropriate at best to coopt it without asking permission, without _earning_ it.

Besides, I was still a part of New Wave, and I wasn't planning on leaving that behind. Whatever my new costume, it still needed to match, and anything based on his costume wouldn't. I didn't want glory anymore... but I still had power, and with power came responsibilities. It was time I really lived up to them.

I checked over my costume in the mirror again. Long-sleeved white leotard, blue knee-high boots and elbow-length gloves, red cape attached with a golden brooch and cord. I frowned. The costume seemed a bit... plain. Like it was missing something.

Maybe a symbol?

Well, I'd figure something out, I was sure. I had more pressing matters to worry about. Like Lung. A shiver ran down my spine as I thought about him, but I tamped down the fear. He _had_ to be dealt with. Maybe it was just youthful idealism, but New Wave had been founded on the principles of cape accountability, and I intended to uphold them.

Capes had rough lives. Internet rumors aside, it wasn't like powers came in a bottle. They came from trauma, from the worst moment of your life, the moment you gave in to despair. I could have done a lot of damage when I triggered. I very nearly did. I can't imagine what I would have done if I'd had it as bad as a first generation cape. It would have been all too easy for me to misuse my powers - many did, far too many - but I could be better than that. _We_ could be better than that. If we were going to survive, if we were going to beat the Endbringers for real some day, we _had_ to be.

But we weren't. There were a lot of reasons for that, ranging from the nature of triggers to the anonymity that came from putting on a mask. It was what New Wave had been founded to fight.

But Lung's mask didn't hide who he was. It couldn't, really, with his ethnicity, size, and build. It didn't have to. He was too strong, too powerful, allowed to run free because we couldn't stop him. Because we weren't strong enough. Because the Protectorate and even the rest of New Wave had given up on trying to hold _him_ accountable for _his_ actions. Whatever deal Armsmaster had been making with Purity, it didn't look like it was going to be as proactive as I'd expected and hoped.

But _I_ hadn't given up. And I had a feeling Batman hadn't either.

* * *

I had to do a little glad-handing with the Dockworkers' Association to get the floodlight. In the end, I promised to meet with some of their kids; being a local celebrity had its advantages, I guess. The actual silhouette, I made myself. There's a lot of rusted out steel in the Boat Graveyard, and it only took a little laser vision and super-strength to shape it well enough.

I looked up at the night sky and aimed the floodlight at the clouds overhead, positioning it just right before settling in for a long wait. I didn't know Batman's schedule. For all I knew, it would take several nights to get his attention... but I had a hunch it wouldn't be that long.

An hour later, I was beginning to doubt that hunch.

"I hope you didn't set this up just to show off your new costume."

I started, then turned. How did he sneak up on me like that? "Batman," I returned the greeting, reaching over to shut off the floodlight. "I'm glad you came."

"What do you want, Glory Girl?" he asked.

I twitched at the name I'd given up. "Don't... don't call me that," I said quietly. "I've realized glory isn't all it's cracked up to be, so... I'm rebranding."

Silence fell for a moment. He seemed to be considering that, but I couldn't quite tell. With the floodlight off, it was pretty dark, and even as sharp as my senses were, the darkness was his home, not mine.

"So what are you calling yourself now?" he asked finally.

I flushed. I knew I'd forgotten something. "I, um, I'm still working on that. For now, just call me Vicky."

He didn't respond. Instead, he just stood there, _looking_ at me. Normally, I like being the center of attention, but...

"So, anyway," I said, breaking the silence, "I wanted to talk to you. About Lung."

He gave a derisive snort. "I was beginning to think you'd learned your lesson."

My jaw dropped. I felt like I'd just been slapped. What on Earth was he-?

Of course. Duh.

"This isn't about my ego," I snapped. "The ABB lost both Dragonfly and Sasuke, but with Lung, they've gotten aggressive, started expanding. They need to be stopped. _Lung_ needs to be stopped, held accountable, but I'm not strong enough to do it myself."

"So you came to me."

"Yeah." I nodded. "I did. Because no one else is stepping up to the plate. I have a feeling you're planning something and that, whatever your plan is, you could probably use a high-tier Alexandria package or Blaster like me in your corner when the time comes. If I'm right, call me." With that said, I held up a slip of paper I'd written my cell phone number on earlier.

He accepted my number, which I thought was a good sign, and I added, "Just... not during school hours, okay? Arcadia's built in a Faraday cage, so I don't get any signal on campus."

He nodded, and the piece of paper vanished... somewhere into his costume. He's _got_ to be a Tinker.

He gave me a steady, penetrating look. "I'll consider it."

"I just want to help if I can," I assured him. "That, uh, that was all I have to say. So, I guess I'll... see you later?"

He cocked his head to the side and said, "Power Girl."

I blinked. "What?"

"For your name."

"Oh. Ohhh." That made sense. Hmm. Power Girl. I looked up at the sky as I considered it. It... had a nice ring to it, actually. Given why I'd chosen to rebrand, the questions of power and responsibility...

It was more appropriate than anyone would ever know.

A faint smile crossed my face. "I like it. Thanks," I said, turning to... an empty rooftop.

Something told me I'd better start getting used to that.


	24. Cowl 3-8

**Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising**  
 _Cowl 3.8_

"All right, Oracle," I subvocalized as I left the unexpected meeting with Glo- Power Girl. "Want to explain that?"

"Girl's got issues," she answered. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Yes, yes, I know. She's a cape; of _course_ she has issues. Look, before her fight with Lung, she was a real showboat; you don't need Thinker powers to figure _that_ out. I don't think she was taking the cape thing very seriously, but that fight was bad enough that her sister triggered with powers that oh so conveniently can be used to heal people. My guess is, she got badly hurt, showing her the business end of what that kind of power could do if misused."

"So?"

" _So_ ," she said, "she's clinging to the New Wave ideals on cape accountability like a lifeline. If society proves it can and will hold _everyone_ accountable, even the strongest villains, then it serves as a deterrent against it happening again. For her, it's about power and responsibility, so... Power Girl. It'll _mean_ something to her, even if she won't ever say why." She paused. "Besides, it's less of a mouthful than 'Solar-Powered Girl.'"

I didn't dignify that with a response. Instead, I asked, "Can we use her?"

"I think, if we read her in, she'll stick to whatever the plan is unless she thinks it's failing," was Oracle's assessment. "We could use that kind of firepower."

I grunted in acknowledgement. I didn't need her to tell me how useful a powerhouse of that level could be, but I'd found she really liked to give exposition. "Is Huntress on board?" I asked. We were pinning a lot on the drug cocktails Mr. Fox had cooked up, but I wasn't so sure about the auto-injectors, especially if Lung were ramped up enough. But if we could take advantage of Huntress's power instead...

"She'll have to duck her PRT minders, but that shouldn't be too hard. Since she turned herself in voluntarily and is playing ball, they have her on a pretty long leash when she's not on duty or in class at Arcadia."

That Huntress had agreed to help - probably hadn't even hesitated - went unsaid. I was still a little uncomfortable with that - the girl had a serious case of hero worship - but at least something good had come from it. The Wards could help her in ways I couldn't.

* * *

Over the next week, I'd struck at the ABB three times: a drug storehouse, an armory, and finally, here, a rundown laundry service used to, appropriately enough, launder money. They weren't their biggest operations, but I made up for value with tempo and timing.

The loss of the places I'd struck wouldn't hurt the ABB very much, but the lieutenants who were visiting them at the time that I'd captured and turned over to the BBPD would, and the blow to Lung's pride... well, that was a whole other level entirely.

The laundry service was closed for the night, but they knew I was coming before I entered. They couldn't not; I'd cut the power and blanketed the windows and emergency lights with my darkness from the roof. It was a dangerous game, practically challenging Lung to his face... but that was the point.

One of Mr. Fox's tinkertech devices shattered the front picture window with a resounding crash, and gunfire erupted from the front counter in response, filling the empty street outside. Meanwhile, I dropped down to the box truck in the alley behind, taking down the driver before moving into the building. The box truck was carrying a shipment of illicit cash for processing.

As expected, they were looking toward the front as I moved through the building, letting my darkness expand, billowing out behind me in case I missed someone. The laundry service had a public area out front with coin-operated washers and dryers and dry cleaning services in the back.

The laundromat area had two aisles, separated by washers and dryers stacked two high, and there was a gangbanger cautiously heading down each aisle. The one on the right was tall, broad-shouldered, with a wife beater and a pump shotgun. The one on the left was short and wiry with a crew cut, and the practiced ease with which he carried an AK tight and ready to his shoulder spoke of some military experience.

I silently stalked forward behind Crew Cut, who suddenly stiffened and lashed out blindly with a knife he'd concealed. Good instincts. I dodged and struck a nerve cluster in his wrist, causing him to drop the knife, and rushed forward. As he tried to bring the rifle to bear, I struck the top of it, knocking the weapon down. Gunfire echoed, and bullets tore the tile floor apart even as I struck with a throat punch.

I heard the thunderous roar of Wife Beater's shotgun, and I dove to the floor. I had no idea what kind of ammo he had loaded, and washers and dryers wouldn't stop a slug, not at this range. I fired my grapple gun up to the rafters, reeling myself up into the air, over the center row of washers and dryers to slam feet first into Wife Beater's face, sending him crashing into the washer and dryer behind him.

Silence fell, and I listened carefully, thankful for sound dampers in my cowl. There was a cash shipment out back, which meant one of Lung's lieutenants had to be here, and based on our intel, I was pretty sure I knew which one.

There was a noise from the counter. I turned and saw the door to the back room swinging freely; I'd missed him hiding behind the counter. Careless.

I loped forward in pursuit. In addition to the dry cleaning equipment, the back room was filled with shelves upon shelves of cleaning supplies and racks of customers' laundry, and I could hear my quarry bumping noisily into them as he fled blindly through my darkness, slowed by the various obstructions he couldn't see, the layout of which he was obviously only vaguely familiar with.

I pulled my darkness back enough to let him see the back door, and he dashed for it, I hurled a batarang - this one with a tinkertech razor edge - and pinned the door's latch shut.

He tried the door, then spun, pressing his back against the door and fumbling for a pistol. I rushed forward, grabbing the front of his shirt and slamming him up against the wall.

"Donald Chen," I growled, "I have a message for Lung."

* * *

Pier 52 had been designed and built for transatlantic container ships, but thanks to the Boat Graveyard blocking deeper draft vessels from entering or leaving the bay, it had fallen into disuse years ago. It was poorly positioned to be of any value, so while it was arguably within ABB territory, they had virtually no presence there.

There had been a large shipment of outgoing cargo already bought and paid for when the strike happened, leaving them stuck in port. What followed was a rapid series of bankruptcies, first by the shipping company itself, then by its creditors, which had left much of the cargo in legal limbo. The containers had long since been stripped of their cargo, either through legitimate claims or theft, but the rusting hulks of many of the containers themselves still littered the pier.

It was perfect.

Lung hadn't come alone.

He had with him about half a dozen gangbangers. Armed, but their weapons were concealed, pistols or submachine guns only. One of them - Chen - was carrying a camcorder. Apparently, Lung wanted a record of his impending victory.

Fortunately, I hadn't come alone either.

"Oracle?" I murmured quietly.

"Two snipers," came the reply. "They've been neutralized."

Naughty, naughty.

I stepped out of the shadows and stood silently across from him.

"No more tricks, Batman?"

"I've still got a few up my sleeve," I assured him. I made a point of looking at his companions. "What's the matter, Lung? Afraid to take me on alone?"

He bristled visibly at that. Good.

"They are here to witness your end, Batman."

He charged. I sidestepped his first punch, then introduced him to my shock gauntlets with a left hook that stopped him short. He turned, and I darted in, two quick jabs led a right cross straight into his gut, and as he tried to counterattack, I spun around him instead. One of the pneumatic injectors with Mr. Fox's anti-Brute formula slid into my hand, and I slammed it into his back, activating it. It bucked in my hand as the tungsten alloy needle pierced his skin to deliver its payload.

The next thing I knew, the injector was ripped from my hands as I went flying.

"A sedative?" he roared. He snapped the injector and tossed it aside, leaving the needle inside, and stomped toward me. He was definitely amping up now. "Was _that_ your grand plan? You cannot beat me, Batman!"

Well, there went Plan A. Time for Plan B. I just hoped Power Girl and Huntress were up to the task.

"Probably not," I admitted, "but maybe she can."

 **WHAM!**


	25. Cape 3-9

**Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising**  
 _Cape 3.9_

My immediate, knee-jerk reaction to Batman's plan had been to argue. Not many people would think sidelining their heaviest hitter was a good idea, but Batman had a point. Brute force wouldn't work on Lung, not unless we _started_ with overwhelming force, and that had its own problems.

I flew over the area around Pier 52, scanning for any surprises. Just because Lung was a Brute didn't mean he was an idiot. He was still a gang leader, and gangs weren't known for their sense of fair play.

 _Bingo._

I dropped down on him from above, my hand reaching the back of his head and smashing his face into his rifle. I picked up the rifle and turned the barrel into a pretzel; even if he did wake up before we took Lung down, he wasn't going to be interfering from up here.

"Found a sniper," I reported through my earpiece to Batman's info geek, Oracle, who was serving to coordinate everything. "He's down."

"Good," she said. "I've tapped into their comms. Looks like there's one more. Cross-checking your position... based on the field of fire, check the roof on the corner of Kane and Estrada."

"You got it."

I flew off, and sure enough, there was a second sniper. He didn't put up a fight either.

"Second sniper down."

"Excellent. Get in position in case we have to move to Plan B."

"Copy that." We weren't too confident about Plan A, but there was no sense in not trying it.

I watched as Batman exchanged blows with Lung. From here, I could just barely tell that the ABB gang leader was growing as they fought. Suddenly, Batman went flying, and I had to stop myself from flying in.

"Lung's ramping up too fast for the injectors," Oracle observed. "Power Girl, go."

Having gotten the green light, I moved, flying into Lung with both fists and sending him flying into an empty cargo container, much like I had when I first fought him.

This time, though, I didn't let up, instead pressing the attack: left right left right le-

I broke off and flew back before he could grab me, then grabbed a nearby cargo container, swinging it overhead and smashing it down on Lung. I immediately picked it up again, reoriented, and drove it lengthwise down on him, crushing it against him and the ground beneath him.

I took a moment to catch my breath and look around. Batman was taking care of the gangbangers Lung had brought with him, leaving me with one less thing to worry about. Good.

"Oracle?" I murmured. Positioning was crucial, and while Huntress didn't have to manhandle Lung, she didn't have my mobility either.

"North," she said, answering the unasked question.

As Lung burst out from the wreckage, now engulfed in flames, I charged forward again. I swerved at the last minute, causing his grab to miss, and brought my leg around, kicking him in the head and sending him skidding across the concrete.

"That's it," Oracle said. I gave a slight nod of acknowledgement. With that information, rather than immediately pursue, I began walking toward him as he picked himself up.

"'ill 'oo," he promised.

"I've heard that before," I said. Punching my palm, I asked, "Ready for round two?"

I charged, skewing to my left, but this time, he was ready for it. I could feel my skintight force field shuddering under the impact as he punched me, but it didn't break, and I was unmoved. I straight-armed him in the chest, then flew up, grabbing his head and smashing my knee into his chin. Continuing the motion, I took to the sky again before he could get hold of me.

I was hurting him, but not enough. But then again, that wasn't the point.

"Oracle?"

"Not yet!"

I grimaced and descended until I was hovering just a few inches off the ground. We squared off again, but this time, neither of us attacked immediately. We circled each other warily for a moment, until my back was to the shoreline.

"Wha' ah 'oo pla'i', guhr'?"

"Why don't you come at me and find out?"

He gave an aborted lunge, and I found myself floating back before I realized it was a feint. He took a more methodical step toward me, and I flew back, maintaining the distance.

His growth was slowing, but it hadn't stopped. He held up a hand, and flames danced around it, coalescing into a sphere the size of a baseball. He hurled the fireball at me, and I ducked.

"Now!"

I shot up into the sky, well over Lung's head, at a speed I'd been holding back on until now. Before he could even turn around, I looped back around and smashed into his back, pushing him toward the ocean, dunking him into the water. Steam hissed around us as the water flash-boiled, lowering the ambient temperature while having minimal effect on his core body temperature.

Which was important.

I quickly shifted, pulling him into a clinch, modified to account for his size, and hoping Huntress was where Oracle said she'd be.

"'oolish guhr'," he snorted as he began prying my arms off of him.

He was too strong. I couldn't hold him.

I still had the advantage. I could have broken his grip and fled, but we needed him to stay still.

There was only one way I could think of to make that happen.

I kept resisting, trying to hold the clinch, but as expected, I failed, and soon, I found myself in an uncomfortably familiar position as he wrapped one hand around my throat - and a good chunk of my head - and brought the other up to my chest.

"'ow you 'urn."

My shield broke, and my chest was on fire.

I don't know how long I screamed, but suddenly, the pain stopped, and I found myself splashing into the water. Something wrapped around my arm and began pulling at me, and I had the sense to follow it, taking flight again before collapsing back on the concrete.

I looked up at Huntress.

"Did it work?"

"See for yourself," Huntress said as she helped me to my feet. I looked. Lung was floating in the water, still amped up, but unconscious as Batman hauled him with some sort of grapple/winch thing. Sticking out of his back was the broken off end of the spear Batman had supplied Huntress with to deliver the bullshit Tinker drug he had cooked up just for Lung. Seriously, what kind of sedative was activated by heat and adrenaline? Per the plan, Huntress had fused it directly with his flesh with her power once he was ramped up enough for his regeneration to let him survive it.

Well, that was a relief. I'd hate to have to do that again. I looked down, and to my surprise, I found I hadn't been as badly burned as I'd thought. Still burned a hole right through my costume, though; it was almost indecent.

Batman finished tying Lung up and turned to us.

"Good job," he said.

"Thanks," I replied, "but next time, someone else gets to be the punching bag."

Our thoughts were interrupted by the sound of sirens.

"Can you take it from here, Huntress?" Batman asked as he began walking away.

"Yeah, I think so."

"Shy as ever, huh?" I called out.

He didn't answer, instead just fading into the shadows.

Oh, well. I guess he just wasn't interested in meeting the city's finest tonight.


	26. Interlude 3B - Various

**Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising**  
 _Interlude 3B - Kayden, Lisa, Malcolm, Sophia, King_

 _Armsmaster turned as she approached, raising his signature halberd warily._

 _"Wait!" she said. "I'm here to help."_

 _"We don't need the Empire's help."_

 _"I'm not with the Empire anymore," she said quietly. "I'm trying to be a hero."_

 _Armsmaster stared at her for a long moment, his jaw working wordlessly, then shook his head, turning his attention back to Lung. "You know what? Fine. We can discuss this_ after _we finish dealing with the rampaging dragon man."_

Kayden shook off the memory as she exited the elevator. True to his word, they had discussed the matter after they had finished dealing with Lung. Well, for a definition of "dealing with" that included him walking away unscathed and unhindered, despite their best efforts.

She stepped into the office with a little trepidation. Ever since she joined Max, she hadn't thought she'd ever find herself in the Protectorate's headquarters, at least not without shedding a lot of blood, sweat, and tears. Now, here she was, in _the_ Protectorate's headquarters in New York, and all she had had to surrender were names and words and a little bit of freedom.

She'd been hesitant at first, but for Aster's sake, it had been an easy bargain.

They had already been investigating Max and his connections throughout Brockton Bay, after all. It was what had given her the courage to defy him. In little ways at first, like taking Theo and Aster to that basketball game, until she'd finally decided to make a clean break.

"Hello?"

"Ah, Mrs. Anders!" the garishly dressed, overweight man behind the desk greeted her, rising to his feet and holding out a hand. "I'm Glenn Chambers, head of Image."

"A pleasure," she said, shaking his hand, "though I'd prefer to go by my maiden name."

He nodded briskly. "Understandable, given the situation. I understand Legal's looking into annulling the marriage." He sat back down and gestured for her to take a seat.

After she sat down, he clasped his hands on the desk in front of him. "You present an unusual case for us, Ms. Russel."

"I can understand that," she said, inclining her head. "How often do you have former villains signing on?"

He chuckled. "More often than you'd think, actually. Normally, it falls to my department to help make sure no one finds out."

She blinked. "Really?"

"Really." He nodded. "Public Relations - which is _not_ the same as Image - would prefer we present the Protectorate and Wards as squeaky clean heroes with spotless records. Image handles branding, costuming, and marketing for all our heroes, and that includes rebranding former villains so that no one is the wiser. However, as I said, you present an unusual case for us."

She frowned. "In what way?"

"Your powers," he said bluntly. "They're visually highly distinctive... unless you can control the color? Maybe, say, green?" She shook her head. "Pity. That makes seriously hiding your previous identity pretty much a non-starter, unless we did something like give you a full body costume to hide your glow; we'd probably need tinkertech so you could still use your powers while hiding it. Fortunately, we've received good feedback from when we piloted Steel's Reform Initiative in DC with Mister Freeze, so PR is willing to risk pushing the envelope with you."

"So, I _won't_ need a new name and costume?" Then why was she here?

"Oh, you'll need one," he assured her. "Given your prior affiliation, your nom de guerre is positively _filled_ with unfortunate implications. We won't openly admit you were Purity, but we'll play up the whole 'fresh start, leaving the old life behind, born anew' angle." He plucked a printout from his desk. "I had my department generate a few possible names."

"Actually, I was thinking 'Radiance,'" she interjected.

"Taken," he said without missing a beat. "Unlike independents, I'm afraid we have to proactively avoid any risk of trademark or copyright infringement. How does 'Doctor Light' sound?"

Kayden shook her head. "I'm no doctor."

"'Lady Lantern'?"

She frowned. "Hmm..."

"I'll mark that as a 'maybe.' How about 'Dazzler'?" Her expression was answer enough. "'Solstice'?

She tilted her head and considered that, nodding slowly.

"I think I can work with 'Solstice.'"

"Great!" he said. "So, for costume, I was thinking something in black, with white highlights, maybe a star burst on the chest. _Everything_ goes well with black..."

* * *

Lisa jerked her head back, and Mr. Grant aborted the punch before it had ever really started.

She hated this. She really did. But the Waynes and Mr. Pennyworth - or Dad, she supposed she should get used to thinking of him as - had been quite insistent she learn how to defend herself.

She threw a tentative punch, only for her power to scream at her, and she flung herself back, falling on her ass. When her head cleared, she looked up to see Mr. Grant standing over her, offering her a hand up. Gratefully accepting it, she allowed him to pull her to her feet, then turned to pick up her water bottle, taking a long pull.

"You've got potential."

Huh. He was being honest. That was... actually high praise, considering she was pretty sure Mr. Grant was a cape, a low-level regenerating Brute at that.

"What do you mean?"

"I've put a lot of practice into making it hard to read my moves," he said, "but it's clear I'm still an open book to you. You just don't have the right reflexes to react properly, and that's something we can fix with training."

"Uh huh," she murmured. "Right." The TV hanging in the corner of the gym - an old-school CRT set - caught her attention, and she grabbed the remote, turning the volume up.

"-frozen the assets of Medhall Corporation, a local pharmaceutical company, over suspected ties to the Empire Eighty-Eight. President and CEO Max Anders was not available for comment. In related news, Commissioner Loeb has resigned after investigation revealed corruption at all levels of the BBPD-"

 _PRT had inside informant,_ her power supplied. _Knows Max Anders is Kaiser. Uncovered Empire moles in the BBPD. Tried to apprehend him, failed. Kaiser on the run._

And just like that, her entire reason for approaching Batman had gone up in smoke.

She couldn't stop laughing.

* * *

Mal waited with Gordon on the precinct rooftop. Others would disagree with this approach. He was the head of the Protectorate ENE, after all - well, nominally, at least; he'd already delegated most of those duties and responsibilities to Armsmaster to prepare him for the position - and the man they were waiting for was an independent, one who had coopted one of their Wards to go up against one of the most powerful villains in the city. Others would say the man needed to be taught respect.

He disagreed. That kind of accomplishment _deserved_ respect. Mal had gone toe to toe with Lung when he'd first come to town, so he understood better than most what an accomplishment it was to bring in the gang lord; if it hadn't been for his own regeneration, Mal would still be in traction.

He was in costume, of course: a rugged, lightly armored body suit in three dark or grayish shades of blue, accentuated by golden knee pads and bracers, a matching belt buckle, and a golden helmet that covered most his head and framed his chin but otherwise left his lower face exposed in a compromise between protection and approachability. It also flaunted his African-American heritage to the Empire 88, which was a major plus in his book.

 _"Commissioner, Challenger." The voice came from behind them, startling them both._

Mal turned, eyes searching the shadows, Gordon following suit a moment later.

"What is it?"

"Batman," Mal said, both in answer and greeting.

"Commissioner, Challenger," Batman said, stepping out of the shadows and nodding at each of them in turn, seemingly unfazed at being caught out.

Gordon controlled his surprise admirably. "So you heard."

"Hard not to. It's all over the news." Batman looked over at the floodlight and inclined his head questioningly.

"A donation from Power Girl," Gordon explained as he shut off the Bat signal.

"You could have called."

"This was my suggestion, actually," Mal interjected, stepping forward. "I didn't want to ambush you or risk spooking you into not coming."

"I see," Batman said. "Is this where you try to recruit me?"

Mal considered his response.

 _"Pretty much," he admitted with a shrug. "You could do a lot of good with Protectorate resources."_

 _"Not interested," Batman said, turning toward the roof's edge. "Too many rules, and I work better in the shadows."_

"Officially, yes," he replied instead, rolling his broad shoulders. "Unofficially... you're doing pretty well on your own. I'd hate to tie you up with red tape." He quirked a smile. "Besides, it would ruin the mystique that makes you so effective."

Batman said nothing.

"Mostly," Mal continued, "I just wanted to meet you. Get a measure of the man, so to speak. I like what I see." He reached into one of his costume's concealed pockets. "My card, in case you need to contact me."

Batman accepted the business card and tucked it away.

"I look forward to working with you," Mal tried.

"Gordon has my number," Batman said. "Call me when you need me. Not before."

With that, he turned and fired a grapple gun, swinging away.

"Well," Mal mused aloud, "I think that went well."

* * *

Sophia was deep in thought as she wandered the city.

The PRT had tried to downplay Sophia and Batman's involvement in taking down Lung, instead crediting it to the Protectorate, New Wave, and "an independent local hero." No surprise, really. No need to scare off Ward parents or share credit with someone who wasn't fighting for PR, after all, right? Besides, it'd be _embarrassing_ if it got out that the villain who stomped the entire Protectorate ENE and New Wave was taken down by two teenagers and an independent who preferred working with the BBPD over the PRT. Not naming Batman hadn't exactly worked out, though, not with the footage that had surfaced on PHO of him taking on Lung with nothing but a pair of tinkertech gauntlets and a pneumatic injector. The fact that the footage hadn't included Power Girl or Sophia's own contributions to the fight hadn't helped either.

Still, Sophia didn't mind much. Like she'd told Batman, she was okay with not getting credit. Besides, the past several weeks had been exhausting.

Director Piggot hadn't been happy with her going off the reservation, but it was hard to argue against bringing in Lung, so the director had suspended her punishment of a month's ban on patrols. Besides, with recent events in the city - events which, Sophia had to admit, she had had a direct hand in causing - they couldn't afford the loss in manpower.

With Lung's capture, the Azn Bad Boys had been left bereft of leadership and were pretty much done for until and unless their out of town branches decided to send reinforcements, and that left the existing members scrambling. With Medhall's assets frozen and Kaiser on the run, the Empire 88 had been dealt a body blow as well, and they were closing ranks. That left the Rising Sons and White Jade to gobble up whatever territory they could and free to take their pick of the gangbangers jumping ship from the ABB. Some had left town, but most couldn't and were desperately trying to get in good with another gang instead, and desperate people do stupid things.

Sophia paused as her path took her past an alley entrance. She stepped back and gave a double take. Was that-? Yeah, it was. The redhead she'd rescued last week. She looked like a wreck, in even worse shape than she'd looked when she was trying to fight off the former ABB thugs who were about to mutilate her a week ago.

 _She needs help,_ Sophia thought. _Just... a few words so she can pull herself together,_ she decided, before stepping out into the alleyway and announcing herself.

"Takes guts."

The redhead wheeled around, panic in her eyes.

"'Guts'?" she repeated, disbelief clear in her voice.

"Coming back," Sophia clarified. "The only reason I can think of is if you were looking for revenge. Or maybe you were looking for me. Maybe even both, for all I know."

 _Come on, girl. You're stronger than you think you are._

The girl opened her mouth, then closed it, realization crossing her face.

"You saved me."

Sophia shrugged, faking nonchalance. "We try. Me and Batman, the rest of the Wards and the Protectorate. You were lucky."

" _'Lucky'?!_ " the other girl snarled.

"Yeah," Sophia confirmed, plowing on. "Lucky. Trust me, it's never as bad as it seems. You tried to fight back, and that's good. Everyone who's willing and able to fight is one less we have to protect, and maybe some day, the world won't need heroes like us. But imagine if I hadn't been there."

The redhead shuddered and looked down, her mind obviously somewhere else. Sophia winced as the girl began hyperventilating. She was in a worse headspace than she'd thought.

"It could have been worse" was obviously _not_ the right approach.

 _What to say? What to say?_ Sophia wondered, panicking slightly. _Damn it, I'm not_ good _at this sort of shit!_ Her mind flashed back to her sessions with the PRT therapists; how would they handle this? Hell, how would _Batman_ handle this?

"Let you in on a little secret?" she said finally.

The redhead blinked. "Wh-what?"

Sophia walked up to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. The girl flinched back slightly, but Sophia didn't let go.

"You're much stronger than you think you are," she said, giving voice to her earlier thoughts. "Trust me." Letting go of her shoulder and thumping the girl on the chest, Sophia added, "In here? You're even stronger than me."

Disbelief was written all over the girl's face.

"I mean it," Sophia said. "Do you know what a 'trigger event' is?"

"N-no."

"It's when a cape gets their powers," Sophia explained. "You've probably heard stuff about traumatic events and shit like that, yeah?"

"Yeah." The girl nodded. "You get, like, one bad day, and bam, superpowers."

"'One bad day,'" Sophia echoed, then barked a bitter laugh. "It's more than just one bad day, Red. It's the worst moment of your life, the moment you lose hope, when something in here," she tapped herself on the chest, "breaks. Completely."

"S-s-so?"

" _So_ ," Sophia said, "stuff like that? Stuff like what you went through? It's like a... a what's the word? A thing that tests strength, makes things stronger?"

"A crucible?"

"Yeah, a crucible. So, every cape, when put through their crucible, got powers to make them stronger. Because we weren't strong _enough_ , and we broke. Last week was your crucible. You fought back, even when it was hopeless, but you didn't get powers. _You_ didn't _break_. Instead, you _survived_. That takes strength."

"Strength," the girl repeated. "I'm strong," she asserted tentatively. "I'm a survivor."

"Exactly," Sophia said, nodding. "Hang onto that. Whatever it takes, don't _ever_ forget how strong you are, you hear me?"

The redhead nodded shakily. "Yeah," she said. She clenched her fists, forced herself upright, and gave a firm nod. "Yeah, I hear you."

Sophia let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

She gave a wry smile. "You gonna be okay?"

The redhead flashed a faint smile in return.

"I'll survive."

* * *

King surveyed the city before him with anticipation. With Lung's fall and Kaiser going underground, the city's underworld was in chaos.

It was perfect.

"Ahh," he said, "Brockton Bay, such untapped potential."

He heard a derisive snort from behind him. "'Potential'? This place is a shithole. A _boring_ shithole."

King glanced over and glared. The boy - he would _always_ be a boy to King - was playing with his knives again. _Typical._ " _Jack_ ," he said warningly.

The boy gave a rebellious look but nodded, and with a flash of movement, the blades had vanished into whatever hiding place he kept them in.

King turned his attention back to the city skyline.

"While I appreciate your need for... entertainment, Jack," he continued, "it can wait until we've announced our arrival in a... suitable fashion." He strode for the door, and others rose and followed. But not all of them. He looked over his shoulder at the youngest member of the team. "Come along, girl. We have things to do. You can tinker with him later."

"Hmm?" the girl blinked and looked up from where she had her hands buried in the abdomen of her current project. As his words registered, she nodded, shaking a loose ringlet of blond hair out of her eyes. "Oh, yeah, right, sure," she said as she hurriedly started putting her current's subject's internals back in, if not necessarily where they'd originally been; she _had_ been making some improvements, after all. "I'm coming! Just... let me close him up and put everything away first, okay?"

"Of course!" he agreed cheerfully. "We wouldn't want to leave a mess, after all."


	27. Knight 4-1

**Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising**  
 _Knight 4.1_

"She's pissed."

I didn't need Oracle to tell me that.

Over the past several days, Yuki-joro, second in command of the Rising Sons, had attacked just about anyone who held even the tiniest scrap of territory in the city: the White Jade, the Empire, even small fry like the Archer's Bridge Merchants. She was a wide area cryokinetic - the PRT had her rated as a Shaker 6 - and after Fries, I had no interest in taking on _another_ cold-based villain if I could avoid it.

Unfortunately, I probably couldn't. Not if I wanted to keep the city from boiling over into a full-blown gang war.

The mission right now, though, was strictly recon, at least unless bystanders were threatened. Just as well, given that Zhurong had apparently deigned to come out and meet with Yuki-joro personally tonight. Fire and ice swirled around each other in a primal fury as Yuki-joro's cryokinetic field clashed with Zhurong's pyrokinetic flames, but for all the sound and fury, they didn't actually seem to be attacking each other. Yet.

It was quite the visual spectacle, even moreso through thermal imaging, rendering it useless. Between the new moon above, the flickering, white-hot flames, and the snow and sleet swirling around, regular nightvision wasn't cutting it either. I switched to a composite vision mode. The wireframe imagery was generated by the cowl's onboard processor, based on the data input from a number of sensors, including nightvision, infrared and ultraviolet imaging, active sonar, radar, backscatter X-ray, and other, more exotic sensors. It wasn't pretty, and it lost a lot of detail, but it worked.

The audio enhancers, on the other hand, were working perfectly, as were the audio filters. Even from here, I could clearly hear what they were saying. The problem was, I couldn't understand it. It sounded like Chinese.

"Mandarin, actually," Oracle interjected. "She's demanding to know where 'he' is. Zhurong's critiquing her accent - it's apparently pretty bad - and claiming he has no idea where 'the boy' is. Hmm. He's telling the truth, but she doesn't believe him, because he knows who she's talking about."

"So, who _are_ they talking about?" I asked as I connected a new attachment to my cowl. It fitted around my lower face and sealed along the cowl, fully sealing my costume against gas, radiation, and even electricity. It also allowed the suit's thermoregulatory system to protect me fully.

"Not... sure," Oracle answered intently. "A cape, I think, but that's not what has her upset. Whoever it is, she's really worried about him. Zhurong's... insulted? But why-? Oh. Oh, God. It's her _son_."

 _Crap. No_ wonder _she's pissed._ I mentally ran through the Rising Sons' roster. Not one of their known capes; none of them had gone missing, and even if one had, none of them were young enough to be Yuki-joro's son, barring an undocumented age-altering power. "Can you give me any more details?" I asked. "Powers? Description? When he went missing? Anything?"

"Hey, I've got the Batcomputer running translation software, a phrasebook in one hand, a Mandarin-English dictionary in the other, and my power filling in the gaps from body language. Be happy you're getting _this_ much."

I kept watch as the conversation ended. Yuki-joro wasn't fully convinced, but she was willing to give Zhurong the benefit of the doubt... for now. I let Zhurong go and followed Yuki-joro while I considered my next move. She was definitely the destabilizing influence. If I took her down - and from surprise, distracted as she was, I could - that would end one of the driving forces in the current gang fighting. In theory, at least.

But _someone_ had kidnapped a child.

I closed my eyes. Family. There wasn't a lot people wouldn't do for family. I should know.

I stealthily maneuvered into the warehouse she had entered, then dropped down behind her from the rafters.

"Yuki-joro," I growled. She spun. The temperature in the room plummeted, and my costume's thermoelectric regulators kicked in to compensate. I sidestepped the ice spear she had sent my way.

She spat an invective - in Japanese, presumably - and said, "Batman. What do you want?"

"To help," I answered simply. "A boy's been kidnapped. In _my_ city. I won't stand for that." I waved a hand, gesturing vaguely to encompass the city. "And this? This won't get you your son back."

* * *

Yuki-joro didn't give me much to work with, just when and where (well, the general neighborhood) her son was last seen, a photograph, and a name. Hiro.

She didn't tell me his powers, but given there hadn't been any sign of him - either with the Sons or fooling around on his own - I suspected he was a Tinker or some form of Thinker, rather than any of the flashier power types. Oracle agreed.

That made it difficult to pinpoint a suspect. Tinkers and Thinkers were incredibly valuable, and unlike other capes, they could be controlled and put to use, depending on the specifics of their powers; it wasn't _easy_ , not by a long shot, but it could be done with the right resources. Hiro could have been grabbed by anyone looking to exploit whatever powers he had.

Of course, someone could have grabbed him for his connection to Yuki-joro too, whether to extort her later on, to throw her emotionally off-balance, or for revenge for one of her many past crimes.

For all I knew, the uptick in gang violence _itself_ was the objective. With the ABB gone and the E88 circling the wagons, the city was a prime target for ambitious out of towners looking to secure a foothold for expansion, or some enterprising locals might band together and try their hand at the big leagues. Either way, any clashes between gangs like the ones plaguing the city right now would further weaken the existing power structure.

Still, the top suspects remained the other two major gangs in the city: the White Jade and the Empire 88. Zhurong may have felt insulted, but I wasn't going to dismiss him completely. Even if he were honest, it wouldn't be the first time a gang member had done something the leadership disapproved of. And disapproving of something didn't necessarily mean he wouldn't do it _anyway_ if he had a compelling reason to.

On the other hand, the Empire was definitely up to _something_. Kaiser, Fenja, and Menja had been conspicuously absent recently, not even appearing to bolster their forces' morale in the recent skirmishes like they had after Medhall had been shut down. The question was... what?

That was what led me here. This building used to be a small assembly plant when Brockton Bay was still a thriving port. Parts would be shipped in from overseas and put together here. Most of the heavy equipment had long since been removed, and it was a suspected Empire safehouse.

As I prowled around, however, it was clear the place was deserted... and the Empire hadn't left quietly.

A small forest of metallic spears and spikes - many of them twisted and broken - stood near the entrance of the central room in silent testimony to Kaiser's recent presence. There were scorch marks in the walls, and pools of metal that looked like they'd been melted. Divots had been carved or smashed out of the floors and walls.

Kaiser, obviously. A pyrokinetic of some sort. Fenja and Menja. A mid- to high-end Brute or possibly a concussive Blaster.

The Empire had been fighting someone here... but who? The Rising Sons didn't have a pyrokinetic, and neither they nor the White Jade had any Brutes or Blasters of this type on their rosters. Had the White Jade recruited a new cape? If so, why hide him or her?

More worrisome was how a cape fight like this managed to fly under the radar. Given the activity around the building just a few weeks ago, this _had_ to have been pretty recent, yet there hadn't been a whisper of it on the street.

I took a few samples and scans, but... I wasn't going to find any more answers here. Analysis with Oracle could wait until I was back at the Batcave, and she would've spoken up by now if she needed something specific while I was still on site.

Firing my grappler to get some altitude, I left through the window of what had once been the supervisor's office on the upper floor. I was on the roof, considering my next move, when movement caught my eye.

I crouched and observed the group of five - two male, three female - riding brazenly through what I had _thought_ was Empire territory. Some of them looked familiar, but I only recognized one of them off-hand: Hellhound, aka Rachel Lindt; there was no mistaking the creatures they were riding. Judging from their costumes, they were all capes, and after a bit of observation, I was pretty certain the guy in the skull mask was the leader, but that still didn't tell me who or what I was dealing with.

"Oracle?"

"Finally!" she blurted out.

I rolled my eyes. "Just tell me who I'm looking at."

"They're called the Undersiders."


	28. Knight 4-2

**Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising**  
 _Knight 4.2_

"'Undersiders'?" I echoed.

"They're a team of teen capes," Oracle said. "Strictly small-time solo villains until recently, they've teamed up and started claiming territory, mostly former ABB and Empire turf that no one else is really fighting for yet."

"I see," I mused. "Powers?"

"Three or four Masters and a Tinker."

I blinked. "Seriously? _Four_ Masters?"

"Or three," she reminded me. "And they're different types." Boxes appeared on my cowl's display, bracketing each of their masks as Lisa identified them: first Hellhound's cheap Halloween dog mask, then the ren faire project's carnival half-mask, the two Raggedy Anns' full-face masks, and finally, the leader's creepy skull mask. "You know Hellhound. Regent makes people twitch, but the PRT suspects he _might_ be Hijack, so we're talking possible full body puppetry. The Dee Dee twins are self-duplicators; PRT's not sure if they're actually twins with identical powers like Fenja and Menja or just one person playing the role. Their leader, Terminal, is a Tinker, specialty unknown."

"Any pyrokinetics?" I asked. Hellhound's creatures could account for some of the damage I'd seen in the former assembly plant.

"Nope," she answered, popping the P. "Pretty sure they weren't the Empire's dance partners."

I considered intercepting them, but I wasn't prepared for a confrontation against these odds. That didn't mean I was going to just let them go, though. I doubted they were the kidnappers I was looking for - call it a hunch - but I wasn't about to dismiss the possibility out of hand.

It took me a few minutes to maneuver ahead of them, but once I was in position, a quick throw was all it took to plant a surreptitious tracer on one of their riding beasts. After that, I pulled back.

* * *

I returned to the Batcave to find Lisa at the computer, as usual. I stepped up behind her and pointedly cleared my throat to announce my presence. She suppressed a flinch; she was getting better.

"I've been scanning the camera footage from the area Hiro was last seen when he disappeared," she said without preamble. "There isn't a lot to work with, though. Most of the security cameras around there are analogue, and most of the newer systems with off-site storage only store the footage for twenty-four hours to forty-eight hours unless an incident's been reported."

"But?" I prompted.

"Buuut I _did_ get this from an ATM cam," she finished with a flourish. I watched the footage. At this range, it was grainy, and details weren't very good, but I could see what looked like Hiro playing with a basketball. A white, unmarked cargo van pulled up between him and the camera, stopping for several seconds, before pulling away. Hiro was nowhere to be seen.

"Are you sure-?"

"As sure as I can be," she said with a shrug. "Got the plate numbers from a traffic cam, belonged to Fortress Construction - one of their fleet cars - but the plates were reported stolen later that same day, and if there are any identifying marks on the van, the cameras didn't pick them up. Whoever planned this is _good_."

I frowned. Something about this didn't quite sit right. "Keep on the Fortress Construction angle," I said. "I don't think that was random. What do we have on the Empire safehouse?"

"Definitely a cape fight," Lisa confirmed as she brought the data up on the computer. "Not enough blood or exotics to suggest anyone died. My guess? Some out of towners attacked, looking for some quick rep, and it ended in a draw."

That made sense. "Kaiser doesn't want to admit weakness, and whoever attacked them doesn't want to debut with a failure, so they're both keeping their heads down while they recover."

She nodded. "That's my read on it."

"Which means they'll pop up again," I mused aloud. "If they had the nerve to hit the Empire for their first outing, they aren't likely to just cut their losses and move on."

"Yeah, yeah," Lisa said. "I'll see if I can figure out who it is." She shook her head. "Between the kidnapping and the case Huntress and Power Girl want me on, what's one more thing added to the pile?"

"Huntress?" I echoed. "Power Girl? What case?"

She waved it off. "Cold case. Probably nothing, but I'll let you know if anything comes from it."

I frowned. "All right," I allowed, "but no all-nighters. Right now, we need to hit the sack. We've got school tomorrow."

She groaned. "Don't remind me."

* * *

School had been... interesting lately. Before I'd dropped out my _leave of absence_ , I was just another student. I had a bit of a reputation as a tough guy, enough to discourage the gangs, particularly the Empire, from messing with me, but that was it. Once I started at Clarendon, I tried to fly under the radar.

That wasn't working anymore, not with the rumors flying around.

A few people had worked up the nerve to ask me outright about them, if it was true that Thomas Wayne was my biological father. I answered with the truth: no, he wasn't. That didn't seem to dissuade the rumormongers at all.

Oh, well.

"You touched my car, geek!" That was Nelson's voice, the guy who'd tried recruiting me for the wrestling team.

Great. Not even _in_ the school yet, and something had come up. Nelson was holding one of our classmates off the ground by his shirt front.

Before I could say anything, someone else called out, "Hey, Nash! Let 'im' go."

That was Carter Wilson. Honors club, basketball team, class president, all-around overachiever.

Nelson turned his head and looked at Carter, obviously confused at seeing him step in. "But... he touched my car."

I walked up, coughed, and when Nelson turned to look at me, very deliberately reached out and tapped the car in question with my finger. "And now, so have I. Are we gonna have problems too?"

Nelson let him go. "Uh, no. No problems," he said hastily. He turned and patted the other guy on the back. "Uh, see you in class, Willie."

Shaking my head, I exchanged a sympathetic look with Carter, then continued on my way into school.

What a way to start the morning.

* * *

Lisa and I didn't spend much time around each other at school. We just didn't fit in the same social circles, and we saw enough of each other at Wayne Manor and the Batcave anyway. Nelson was back to his jovial self - nothing seemed to get the jock down for long - and Carter seemed to be watching out for Willie.

Classes dragged on, but at least Mr. Ortiz kept the physics and chemistry classes interesting, and I'd gotten enough sleep last night to stay awake today, which was always a plus. It would have been embarrassing to fall asleep in class. Again.

After school, though, Lisa and I linked back up, and we headed over to Grant's Gym. We were all pretty adamant she learn how to defend herself, despite her objections, and it was my job to make sure she went to her lessons rather than conjure up some excuse to dodge them.

As we entered, Mr. Grant was working with some girl I didn't recognize. Not a big deal. Mr. Grant's "no gangs" policy made his gym very popular with people looking to learn some self-defense, which meant it was always full of new faces, and the redhead was hardly the only unfamiliar face here today.

"Oh, look," Lisa said. "He's busy. Maybe we should come back later."

"Not a chance, Lisa," I said, reaching out and catching her shoulder as she tried to duck out. She deflated and let me drag her in.

"Mister Grant!"

"Just finishing up here," he said, raising his voice briefly before he released the redhead from the hold he had her in and walked her to the edge of the ring, murmuring quietly. A moment later, the girl left, and Mr. Grant waved Lisa up to the mat. "Let's see if you remember those counters from last time."


	29. Knight 4-3

**Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising**  
 _Knight 4.3_

"I hate you," Lisa declared as we left Grant's Gym.

I rolled my eyes. "You'll thank us later, Lisa."

"Still hate you."

"Come on," I said. "It's not that bad. Mister Grant really knows what he's doing. Sure, he's pushing you a bit, but that's just to help you improve."

She glared at me. "Do you have any idea what it's like to spar with someone and know _without a doubt_ how many different ways he could beat you up and how much he could make it _hurt_ if he wanted to?"

"I have some idea," I answered dryly. "Where're you headed now? Back to the manor?" _And the Batcave?_ I didn't have to ask.

"No," she replied. " _We_ are going to the Boardwalk."

I blinked. "We are?"

"Yes," she declared. "We are."

"Lisa," I argued, "I need to pick up Aisha this evening, remember?"

"That's not for a couple of hours," she said, waving it off. "Besides, you owe me-"

"I do not!"

"- _and_ you need to relax. There's more to life than school, your sister, and... our night job. Besides, you need to get a suit tailored for that fundraiser this weekend, and Mrs. Wayne delegated me to ensure that that gets done."

I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could say anything, she added, "And no, 'off the rack' is _not_ acceptable. Mrs. Wayne was very clear on that."

My jaw clicked shut.

I suppose she had a point. The fundraiser being held this weekend at the Brockton Bay Country Club was one Doc's projects to help improve the city, something about restarting the old ferry to make it easier for people living in the north end to commute to the new jobs that were being created closer to downtown in the south, as well as granting access to some of the outlying islands. I wouldn't have much to do there, but people would notice if his personal assistant/totally-not-illegitimate-son didn't show.

I sighed. "Fine," I said finally, throwing my hands up in surrender.

* * *

I stepped out, modeling yet another outfit Lisa had picked out for me. Seriously, silk?

"Why, exactly, are we picking out clothes for _me?_ " I asked. "I figured I was gonna spend most of this trip as your shopping mule."

" _Because_ you need to update your wardrobe in general, Mister Big Shot," she retorted, "not just for special occasions. A good wardrobe makes all the difference if you're going to catch someone's eye."

I winced. I had no interest in that right now.

"Ah ah ah!" Lisa scolded, waving a finger at me. "If you're going to relax, you're going to need to find someone to relax _with_ , and _I_ certainly don't have the time for it."

"Brian?"

My heart froze. That voice...

I turned.

"Delia," I said as she walked up to me. "It's... been a while."

"Yeah," she said, stopping at arm's length.

"So... how've you been holding up?" I asked.

"I've been getting by," she answered. "You?"

"Doing okay."

I shook my head and gestured to Lisa. "Oh, Dee, this is my friend, Lisa Pennyworth. Lisa, Delia Dennis."

Dee turned to look at Lisa. "Oh. _Oh_. I see."

"Whoa!" Lisa said, holding her hands up. "No. Nope. No no no. It's not like that, really. He's-" she hesitated, stumbling over her next words, "he's like a brother to me, I guess."

"Right," Dee said, looking back and forth between us. "Well, I'm pleased to meet you," she said, shaking Lisa's hand, then looked at me and added, "and... I'm glad to see you're doing all right, Brian, but I really need to go."

I caught her hand. "Take care, Dee."

She flinched and tried to pull away for a moment, then smiled faintly back at me. "You too, Brian." With that, she shook herself free and left.

I took off after her, only to find an arm barring my path. Said arm belonged to a stern-faced Enforcer, and I belatedly remembered I was still wearing the silk shirt Lisa had me trying on a moment ago, a shirt I hadn't paid for.

By the time that was taken care of, Dee was nowhere in sight.

"Sorry, Brian," Lisa murmured. "I... I didn't know."

"Before we met," I said with a shrug. Her power wasn't perfect, after all.

"There's something off about her, though," she added. "Not sure what, but... it's almost like she feels guilty. Probably for leaving, I'm guessing?"

I simply shrugged, then changed the subject. "Listen, I've got to go to Mom's to pick up Aisha. Will you be okay getting back to the manor from here?"

"I'll be fine."

* * *

"Mom?" I called as I knocked on the door. No response. I tried the door. It wasn't locked - as usual - so I gingerly pushed it open and stepped into the apartment. "Mom?"

"'N heeere..." I heard from the back, followed by a slightly hysterical giggle.

I shook my head and followed her voice. "Mom," I said, "I'm here to pick up Aisha. Where is she?"

"Uhm..." she squinted at me. "Aisha? She was here just... a... a couple... days ago? I think?"

"'A couple _days_ ago'?!" I sputtered. " _Mom!_ "

"Aww, she'll be fiiine. Every kid runs off every now an' then."

Ladies and gentlemen, Celia Winters.

My hand clenched into fists, and I turned and left before I said or did something I'd regret. Once I was outside and had calmed down a little, I pulled out the cell phone Doc Wayne had gotten me. Aisha had a cheap, prepaid phone for emergencies; I only hoped she hadn't lost it.

It rang three times before I got an answer. "Yo."

"Aisha!" I blurted out, relieved. "Where are you? Where have you _been?_ You know you can't keep running off like this."

"Cool your jets, bro." She blew me off. Again. What was I going to do with her? "I'm good. Serious. Come pick me up? Made a friend I want you to meet."

I sighed. "Address?"

* * *

The address was in one of the city's older districts. Back when the city had been more prosperous, it had been prime real estate, and many of the buildings dated back hundred of years. The costs of renovation, the convenient location, and the historic nature of the buildings meant this was a high-priced area to live, even though most people who had enough money to live here chose otherwise. Still, it remained one of the nicer parts of town and was fairly prestigious, so I dressed accordingly.

I slowed as I rounded the corner and approached the brownstone's entrance. Aisha was sitting on the front steps with someone, a white girl: blonde, blue-eyed, with her hair done up in ringlets. Cute.

When Aisha said she'd made a friend, I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but this girl... certainly wasn't it.

"-I think you'll like him," Aisha was saying, waving her hands animatedly. I quickened my pace again and waved.

"Aisha!" I called.

She turned and waved back. "'Sup, bro?"


	30. Interlude 4A - A Blonde Tinker

**Worm's Finest: Darkness Rising**  
 _Interlude 4A - A Blonde Tinker_

She was elbows deep in her current project's guts. She'd just replaced the power plant in his chest with a new design that gave three percent more power and a twelve percent reduction in volume, and it had been easier to just go in through the abdomen than to remove the armored chest plate. It gave her room to upgrade his electronic warfare suite, and she'd already retuned his circuitry to take advantage of the extra power.

"Come along, girl. We have things to do. You can tinker with him later."

"Hmm?" she blinked and looked up at her father blankly. After a moment, his words registered, and she nodded. "Oh, yeah, right, sure," she said as she hurriedly started reinstalling his internals. "I'm coming! Just... let me close him up and put everything away first, okay?"

"Of course!" he agreed cheerfully. "We wouldn't want to leave a mess, after all."

Still, she took her time. Tinkering was something she enjoyed. The family business? Not so much.

* * *

She tried not to show any nervousness as she marched into the abandoned factory with her family. They were in full costume and made no effort to hide themselves, and the unpowered sentries made no move to stop them, instead backing away or hurriedly retreating deeper into the building. It had taken some time to find the place, and inside, their efforts were vindicated as they entered what looked like a makeshift throne room.

"Hello, Kaiser," her father said airily.

"King," the leader of Brockton Bay's Empire 88 greeted coldly from atop his throne, seemingly unperturbed at the unexpected visit; flanking him were his valkyrie twins, and behind them stood the breathless gangbangers who had obviously notified him of their arrival. "What brings you to my fair city?"

" _Your_ city?" King scoffed. "Please. Your followers may be too close to see the truth, but I assure you, I am not. You're shedding members like water, and even the brightest star of your organization has left you for greener pastures, trying to be a _hero_ even. Gesellschaft backed you because you were winning hearts and minds, and it's clear they have withdrawn their support now that you're not."

"You shouldn't believe such rumors, King. It's... unbecoming."

"Oh? Then where are Night and Fog?" came the brazen response. "On some... top secret mission, I suppose?" King shook his head and strode forward. "No, their masters have better uses for them than to prop up a failing Empire."

Kaiser forced his hand to relax. "Did you come here just to insult me?"

"I came here to make you an offer, Kaiser, one monarch to another," King said. "This city needs a new dynasty. Serve me, and I shall grant you a place within it."

She gasped. She knew her father was ambitious, but this?

She yelped as a veritable forest of sharpened steel erupted from the floor beneath the their feet, but the blades bent and twisted harmlessly around them. As Fenja and Menja stepped forward, growing to protect Kaiser, King gestured, and a steel spike in front of him tore from the floor and reshaped itself into a sword.

Taking hold of the newly-fashioned weapon, he said, "Pity. Your powers in conjunction with mine would have made you a useful asset." He gestured to the twins. "My Queen, if you would?"

"Of course, dear," she said. She gave her sceptre a flourish, drawing a circle in the air with a line of flames. The fire exploded out and snaked around Fenja and Menja's heads like snakes.

The twins reflexively began swatting at the flames, but mere minutes later, they switched to clutching at their throats as they dropped to their knees.

"What's the matter, girls?" the pyrokinetic asked. "Need a moment to catch your breath?"

Meanwhile, she watched as Jack darted forward. Blades flashed in the glittering light as he hurled small throwing knives at the Empire gangbangers, forcing them to dive out of the way, embedding the blades into the walls. Her gaze flicked to her creation, Ace, as he stomped toward Hookwolf, who met the android in a contest of strength.

Shaking herself out of it, she jumped on her flying card and took to the air, flinging taser cards into the melee.

And through it all, King calmly walked toward Kaiser, intent on dueling the other self-styled monarch, and the battle was joined.

* * *

The apartment they had moved into was in Brockton Heights, one of Brockton Bay's older districts. In many ways, it exemplified their patriarch's personal predilections. It was luxurious and expensive - more expensive, if one were honest, than it would be based on any purely practical grounds - but more importantly, the townhouse had _history_. It dated back to the city's earliest days, and a small bronze plaque detailed how, early in the American Revolution, British troops had demanded quartering there, only to be answered with musket fire. The resulting skirmish had only ended with five wounded - two British, three Americans - and no deaths, but it was still the only battle of the war fought in Brockton Bay.

"We _failed!_ " King snarled, hurling his wine glass, shattering it against the wall.

"Now, dear," Queen said, holding her hands up placatingly. "We confronted Kaiser in one of his strongholds, liberated considerable funding from him, and sent him scampering away with his tail between his legs. There are very few who can make that claim."

"We still failed," he snapped irritably. "We went there to send a message, to announce our arrival by bringing Kaiser to his knees and showing him - or his _head_ \- to the city as a trophy. We didn't even manage to bring down so much as a single Empire cape!"

Jack leaned over to his sister. "Sis, we might want to make ourselves scarce," he murmured.

"Yeah," she agreed, nodding. "Good idea." Slowly, carefully, the two teenagers made their escape. Once out on the street, she turned to her brother. "So, what are you planning?"

"Not much," he said, stretching his arms. "Just gonna stroll around for a bit."

"Don't attract attention," she warned. "You remember how pissed Dad got after Atlantic City."

Jack winced. "Yeah, yeah. I'll try not to troll for idiot gangbangers this time. No promises, though. What are you gonna do?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Gonna kill some time playing tourist on the Boardwalk," she answered. "Maybe head downtown after."

* * *

She didn't like the Enforcers. Maybe it had something to do with the family business being on the less-than-legal side, but she didn't think so. They'd run across Security Enforcement Solutions in other cities - even clashed with a few capes from their "heroes for hire" division once - and each encounter left a bad taste in her mouth. It was clear that their recruiting criteria and enforcement policies remained consistent. No matter the city or the state, they had a reputation for punishing offenders "in house" - that is, beating them to a pulp - rather than turning them over to the local authorities and letting the courts handle it. They were little more than thugs in uniforms or costumes, with just the barest veneer of civilization.

She wrinkled her nose at the thought. _I suppose I got that from Dad,_ she mused. Her thoughts were interrupted as a small figure burst out of the crowd and bounced off of her, pausing before darting down an alleyway.

Reflexively, she checked her purse and wallet. Not a pickpocket, then. Barely a minute later, a pair of Enforcers bulldozed their way out of the crowd.

"Ma'am," one of them said, approaching her, "did you see someone running through here?"

"A little black girl?" she asked. "About this tall?" He nodded. She pointed further down the street main boulevard. "I think she went that way."

He and his partner nodded, giving a perfunctory "Thank you, ma'am" before heading in the direction she'd indicated, disappearing into the swirl of people.

She watched them go, then stepped toward the alley.

"Hey, thanks," the little girl said. "You really saved my bacon."

She felt her lips curl into a smile. "So, what got the Enforcers on you like that?"

"Nothin'," The girl said with a noncommital shrug.

"Uh huh, suuure," she said skeptically. "You know, you're not the only one here who's ever taken advantage of the five-finger discount."

The girl looked at her for a long moment, then her face split into a broad grin. "Hey, I like you. Name's Aisha."

"I'm Melanie."

* * *

" _Please?_ " Aisha begged, batting her eyes. "My brother's always gets a stick up his ass whenever I run loose. If you were there to say you were watchin' me the last couple days, that'd really smooth things over!"

The younger girl's phone rang as Melanie rolled her eyes with amusement. Aisha looked down. "Shit! We're late!" She fumbled with the phone, dropping it and barely catching it before it hit the ground before flipping it open.

"Yo," she said into the phone nonchalantly. After a pause, she said, "Cool your jets, bro. I'm good. Serious. Come pick me up?" She looked at Melanie. "Made a friend I want you to meet."

* * *

"-and I _know_ he likes blondes," Aisha insisted as they waited on the stoop of the brick townhouse Melanie's family was living in. "I think you'll like him."

"Aisha!" a voice called.

Aisha turned and waved. "'Sup, bro?"

Melanie followed her gaze and flushed. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and well-muscled. Definitely very attractive. Aisha's comment about him liking blondes crossed her mind again.

"Hi," she said, giving a small wave.

He nodded to her. "Sorry about this. I know she can be quite a handful when she puts her mind to be."

Melanie couldn't help but smirk. "So, was she telling the truth when she said you liked blondes?"

He facepalmed. "I can't believe she's been matchmaking." He paused. "No, wait. Yes, I can. Sorry about that."

"Come on, Brian!" Aisha whined. "You've been mopey ever since Delia left. You need to get laid and lighten up!"

"Aisha!" he snapped. She glared at him defiantly, arms crossed.

Melanie chuckled and shook her head. "It-it's no trouble. Really."

"Well," he sighed, "thanks for watching her." He stuck his hand out. "I'm Brian. Brian Laborn."

"Melanie," she answered, shaking his hand. "Melanie Walker."


End file.
